For Georgie
by Edina Clouds
Summary: It's true what they say "cops make enemies" and it's also true that both Starsky and Hutch have their fair share. So when an enemy from the past finds a way to get revenge on Starsky it's up to Hutch to save his partner! FINAL CHAPTER IS NOW UP
1. Chapter 1

**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 1**

He stood waiting for his mother to come. Anytime now she'd walk through that door with that smug look on her face. God how he hated her! He hated how she looked – those yellow checked pants she always wore. He hated how she smelt – the countless cigarettes tarnished the air around her. But most of all he hated the simple fact that she was his mother, because for some reason it gave her a God given right to tell him how to live his life, to tell him he was a failure and to tell him he was lucky to have her as his mother.

Ten-thirty and there she was just as she said she would be. He picked up his bag and walked towards her.

"Hello Peter, " she said, that smug look on her face. "I've come to take you home."

She reached out to take the bag, but he refused to part with it. It was his and no one was allowed to touch it, especially not her – because Georgie had given it to him.

"Well now Peter," the doctor smiled, "I'm sure this is a day you've been looking forward to."

The smile was insincere, a show put on for his mother, not worthy of any acknowledgement. At least that's what he thought.

"Talk to the nice doctor, Peter, he's only concerned about you." She turned apologetically towards the doctor. "I'm sorry Doctor Grimes, I do apologize for my son's rude behaviour."

There she was again, treating him like a naughty school boy. Had she forgotten he was no longer a child – hell he'd just turned twenty-three.

"Let's go mother," he said briskly, walking toward the door in the vain hope she would follow.

But of course that would be too much to expect, after all this was a perfect opportunity for her to continue to humiliate him.

"Does he have all his medication?" she asked.

"Yes Mrs Langdon," Grimes smiled, "it's in his bag. Oh and don't forget we need to see Peter on Wednesday, just to check he's settling in okay."

"Does that mean I get to visit with Georgie?" Peter enthused, something to smile about at last.

Whatever answer the doctor was about to give was cut short by his mother's interjection.

"Oh Peter you don't want to see that terrible man again. He's a criminal, a murd …" Silence.

"Say it mother – a murderer. And so what am I? Are you still trying to forget who killed father?"

He thought that would force a response from her and that this time she would at least acknowledge what he'd done. But as ever Cheryl Langdon chose to ignore the situation.

Turning to the doctor she smiled graciously. "Well thank you again Doctor Grimes. Come along Peter," she hurried towards the door. "I have a hair appointment at eleven-thirty."

Reluctantly he followed.

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"Looks like it's gonna be another one of those days," Starsky sighed as he stared at the unreleased chocolate bar trapped in the candy machine. He looked tentatively around then quietly nudged the machine, hoping that the movement would dislodge the desired piece of confectionery, to no avail. Frustrated by his lack of success he aimed a kick at the base of the machine and was about to deliver the blow when his partner crept up behind him.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Hutch whispered in his friend's ear. "They're still looking for the culprit who broke the last machine."

"Yeah … well if they gave us one of these machines that actually worked maybe we wouldn't have to get so violent."

"You shouldn't be eating that garbage anyway, it's bad for your digestion."

"I'm starving here … that glop you called breakfast wouldn't have satisfied a mouse."

"Oh and you think that eating chocolate is going to help. Do you have any idea what they put in that stuff? I read this article the other day that would …" he didn't get the chance to finish as Starsky, frustration clearly showing, interjected.

"I don't care Hutch … I like it … it tastes good … I ain't asking you to eat it. But I would like to get the chance to eat it!" He kicked out at the machine, which shuddered momentarily but refused to give up the desired treat.

"STARSKY!" Dobey's voice bellowed from the other end of the corridor. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing Cap'n … just trying to fix a little problem with the machine here."

"With your foot?" Dobey growled as he joined them alongside the faulty object. "Do you have any idea how much the department pays in rental for this thing?"

"No I don't. Hutch," Starsky said turning to his partner. "You have any idea how much this costs?"

"Don't get smart Starsky," Dobey warned.

"Um … will you excuse us please Cap'n," Hutch interceded. "We've got an appointment."

"But my candy bar!" Starsky complained.

"Starsk we've got to go," Hutch advised as he steered his partner down the corridor. "See you later Cap'n."

Dobey watched the two detectives leave then leant nonchalantly against the candy machine. After checking that nobody was watching he aimed a well rehearsed kick at the base of the machine with his left foot and then watched with satisfaction as Starsky's chocolate bar was deposited in the tray. Smiling, he reached in and collected his prize, turned and came face to face with a curly haired detective.

"Thanks Cap," Starsky grinned as he grabbed the candy out of Dobey's hand, walked away and began tearing open the wrapper of the long awaited treat.

Meeting up with his partner outside in the garage they walked together towards the Torino.

"So … what this appointment we gotta go to?" Starsky asked.

"No appointment … just thought it was time to leave," Hutch replied. "Although I would like to go check on Eddie … see how he's settling into his new job. And you know that was a pretty nasty bump Ryle gave him."

"Hutch did anyone ever tell you you're all heart," Starsky smiled as they climbed into his car. Starting the engine he queried. "So … how'd it go with Abby over the weekend? Didn't get the chance to ask ya this morning."

"Great," Hutch smiled recalling fond memories of a pleasant weekend. "The vitamin E worked wonders, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah … I get ya," Starsky grinned knowingly. "You know I still think you two are a little strange. I mean why would anyone wanna stop eating for forty-eight hours?"

"It's a cleansing of the body, Starsk. Abigail says a cleansing of the body automatically leads to a cleansing of the mind."

"You … a clean mind. You'll need more than forty-eight hours without food to achieve that Hutch," Starsky quipped as they drove onto the streets.

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The room was just how he remembered it, dank and dreary. As a child he's wished for colorful walls and drapes, just like all his friends had, but he was never allowed to have what he wanted.

Now, however, things would be different. He'd learned valuable lessons from a very dear friend, a friend who'd taken him under his wing, nurtured him and protected him like a son. Georgie. He was thankful for the day that Georgie had arrived on his wing, only six months ago now. He'd seen a short, balding man arrive in the middle of the afternoon and not thought much about it. Then at dinner that night the man had actually spoken to him – he'd sat down at his table and started to talk.

For the first time in a long while Peter had felt normal, felt like someone was interested in what he had to say. From that moment they were inseparable, each needing the company of the other. Georgie told him endlessly how much he reminded him of his son. And for Peter the feeling was mutual; Georgie was like a father to him, but not like his own father, whom he had hated and with whom he had never been able to communicate with. With Georgie, however, he could open his heart and talk about whatever he wanted to talk about. During their hours spent together he had confided his innermost secrets, his hatred of his father, whom he had taken great pleasure in murdering, and his hatred of an over-bearing mother. Georgie's advice about her had been simple, _"if she carries on bossing you around, get rid of her!"_

Georgie had told him things too. He'd told him about a much loved son who'd been murdered as a result of one man's actions, about how that same man, who was a cop, had murdered an innocent boy and been allowed by a corrupt police force to get away with it. Peter applauded his friend's attempts to force him to admit his guilt, and he completely understood why Georgie, when this action had failed, had then tried to kill him. He felt angry that this cop was still walking around whilst his friend had been incarcerated. That was why when he had been asked to help he had gladly accepted. After all he would do anything for Georgie!

Depositing the bag on the desk he unzipped it and was about to extract the contents when his mother entered the room.

"Peter, time for your medication," she said proffering a glass of water and two small tablets.

"Don't ever come into my room again," he growled. "Do you understand mother. Don't ever come in here again."

Cheryl Langdon stared incredulously at her son. "How dare you speak to me like that," she complained. "I'm shocked Peter … you would never have spoken to me like that before you went into that place."

"Things have changed. I'm not going to be bossed around by you anymore. I'm going to do what ever I want to do and you're not going to stop me. You can't control me anymore, mother … after all I owe you nothing. It's because of you that father's dead."

"What do you mean? That's preposterous," she said, depositing the glass and tablets on the desk.

"Is it?" He moved to stand inches away from her. "You could have stopped him. You could have helped me, but instead you chose to ignore it. Why? Did you think it would go away … did you think he would stop doing what he was doing to me. Or are you still refusing to accept it?"

"I don't know what you mean." Cheryl Langdon replied in disbelief.

"You know mother, I believe you probably don't. So let me spell it out for you. Father molested me. He molested me my whole life and on occasion he let his friends watch. You saw him do it that first time … and did nothing."

"That's not true," she replied desperately as she backed away from her son, afraid of the look she had never seen in his eyes before.

"Isn't it. Remember my thirteenth birthday party, after my friends went home. Remember how happy I was that day. Father had invited several … how did he put it … oh yes "acquaintances" to stay for the evening and asked if I would join them in the library. Do you remember mother?" Peter questioned as she dropped down on his bed, shaking her head in denial. "No? … Well let me remind you," he continued. "Father asked me to remove my trousers, and bend over his knee. I saw you mother. I saw you watching at the door and I looked at you and begged you to help me, but you just closed the door and walked away. You left me with those men and you knew exactly what they would do to me."

Cheryl Langdon looked imploringly at her son. "You don't know what it was like Peter. You don't know what he would have done to me if I had interfered," she said.

"I'm sorry mother, I don't know, and I don't care. You could have left him and taken me with you, but that would have meant leaving all this, wouldn't it." He swept his arms around the room. "This house, the country club, the yacht. This is what you love, this is why you married father. You didn't care about me …"

"Peter," his mother interjected, "I did care."

"Did you? All I know is that from that moment on the sessions with father and his "acquaintances" continued and still you did nothing. So finally I had to deal with it myself."

"I don't want to know," Cheryl cried as she jumped up and ran towards the door.

In an instant he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, staring wildly into her eyes.

"You're going to hear this mother," he growled. "You refused to come to that courtroom just so you wouldn't have to hear. Well you're going to hear now … you're going to listen to exactly what happened five years ago … that final time he came for me. It was after my eighteenth birthday party, I knew he would come. So I went to the gun cabinet … took that shotgun and I waited, I sat on the bed and I waited. Until there he was, standing at the door with that grin on his face. "Time for your birthday surprise, Peter," he told me and I knew exactly what that meant. So I shot him … aimed right between his eyes and I shot him."

There was a silence as Peter Langdon stared at the bedroom door as if seeing all over again the events of that evening.

"You know," he continued slowly, "it's quite amazing what a shotgun blast will do. I remember looking down at him and feeling glad." Peter looked back at his mother and smiled. "Do you know why?"

Cheryl Langdon, shocked and afraid, stared at her son. "N … No," she stammered.

"Because that grin wasn't there anymore. It had disappeared … along with the rest of his face."

"Let me go Peter," his mother cried as she struggled to escape his grip.

"So really it is your fault," he stated matter-of-factly as he continued to hold her against the wall. "Because if you had stopped him I wouldn't have been forced to kill him."

She began to cry then; they were tears of pity but he knew they were not for him, he knew they were for herself.

"Don't come in here ever again, mother," he whispered in her ear. "Because if you do," he kissed her gently on the cheek as he continued, "I'll kill you. Now … get … out."

"My God!" Cheryl Langdon sobbed as she fled the room.

Locking the door behind her Peter returned to his desk and threw his medication into the waste paper basket. Opening the bag that Georgie had given to him he extracted numerous newspaper clippings. Each featured photographs of the same man who was handsome, with dark curly hair and a lopsided grin. The clippings reported he was a detective with the Bay City Police Department and his name was David Michael Starsky.


	2. Chapter 2

Should've mentioned before this story is set just after Bounty Hunter (although I'm sure you already figured that out).

Thanks to all those who reviewed chapter 1, that's very sweet of you! Here's chapter 2, hope you like it. Please forgive any "Britisms" – any errors are down to me.

**---**

**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 2**

Driving into the alley behind "The Pits" they spotted Eddie Hoyle emptying trashcans into a garbage compactor and pulled up along side.

"How ya doing Eddie?" Hutch asked as he climbed out of the Torino.

"Oh, hi there Starchy," Eddie smiled at Hutch. "What you doing here?"

"How many times we gotta tell you Eddie?" Starsky grinned as he joined his partner. "I'm Starch … he's Hup."

"Oh … sorry Starchy. Just wish there was someway I could tell you two guys apart … you know you both look so alike."

"So you keep telling us, but if you look real close," Starsky leant forward to whisper in Eddie's ear. "You'll notice that I'm the intelligent looking one. Hup here has that dumb look on his face all the time." He winked at his partner.

"Hah, hah, very funny." Hutch growled. "So … how are you doing?" he asked Eddie again.

"Oh … I'm okay … I guess. Doc says my heads gonna be fine. I wanna thank you again for getting me this job … Huffy is a real nice boss."

"Huffy?" Starsky queried.

"That'll be me," Huggy Bear sighed as he joined the two detectives and Eddie.

Starsky laughed. "Hey Hutch … you remember old Huffy here."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Huggy responded. "Glad you two came around … need to talk to you about something." He motioned for them to follow as he went back inside.

Lunchtime custom was noticeably light as they sat down at the bar. Huggy deposited a glass of light beer in front of each detective, whilst Starsky helped himself to nuts.

"So Hug, how's Eddie doing?" Hutch enquired.

"Okay … he's a good little worker you know. Just wish he could remember my name from one day to the next."

"You and us both," Starsky laughed as he ate another handful of bar nuts.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Hug?" Hutch asked.

Huggy leant across the bar. "Well," he said in a low voice, "just thought you'd like to know that the shipment you asked me about last week has been cancelled. Seems our friends got a little jumpy and decided to bring it in another way. And before you ask I ain't got a lead on the other way … yet … but I'll let ya know."

"Thanks," Hutch smiled and stood up. "C'mon partner time to go."

Starsky grabbed more of the nuts and joined his friend at the door.

"Hey Starsky," Huggy called after him. "You got worms or something." He pointed at the bowl that now lay empty on the bar top.

"Nah … had breakfast at Hutch's place this morning.

"Enough said," Huggy responded.

As they exited The Pits, Eddie was still hard at work cleaning the now empty trashcans.

"Take it easy," Starsky smiled as he pressed a ten dollar bill into the elderly man's hand.

"Yeah … take it easy," Hutch called as he opened the Torino passenger door.

Eddie Hoyle beamed at the two detectives. "Thanks Starchy … thanks Hup," he said.

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"So … what d'ya wanna do for lunch?" Starsky asked as they drove away.

"You just ate a whole bowl of nuts and you're already thinking about more food."

"Hey … we already established I'm the intelligent one in this partnership, which means I need to keep eating to maintain a high energy level. It's called "brain" food, Hutch."

Hutch looked incredulously at his partner.

"Seriously … I read this article in Readers Digest once which said that really smart people, like rocket scientists and stuff, have to eat a lot just so they can keep having good ideas." He glanced sideways at Hutch. "Guess that's why you can get away with fasting all the time, huh."

Apart from a few minor incidents the day passed relatively smoothly and by six p.m. Starsky was pulling up outside Venice Place.

"What you doing tonight?" Starsky asked his partner.

"Dinner at Abby's place," Hutch replied as he climbed out of the car.

"Abby making another of her "parrot cage" specials, huh."

"Yeah … gotta pick up some ingredients on the way over there."

"Oh … run out of unicorn toes did ya?" Starsky smiled.

"Yeah … something like that," Hutch laughed, and then asked, "hey … you want to join us later?"

"Um … no thanks," Starsky replied quickly, trying valiantly to hide the grimace before continuing. " You want me to pick you up from Abby's place in the morning?"

"Yeah … come around about seven will ya."

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He couldn't believe how simple it had been; a mere phone call had delivered them to him. Now, as he watched he felt a strange excitement. Was this how hunters felt as they stalked their prey? After all that was the situation wasn't it? He was the hunter and the two men searching the alley below were the prey. He knew they wouldn't find what they were looking for. The suitcase of stolen watches they were seeking didn't actually exist. It had been created as a simple lure - a means to an end. And the end was near as he aimed his rifle at one of the uniformed officers and pulled the trigger.

Mission accomplished he carefully laid down the rifle and placed the prepared note along side it. He smiled as he calmly climbed down the fire escape. Georgie would be proud of him and that was all that mattered.

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"Morning," Starsky grinned at his friend as Hutch dropped onto the passenger seat beside him. Judging by the tired features Hutch hadn't slept much the night before.

"Morning," Hutch yawned, stretching out legs as far as they would go.

"You look like you've been up all night … you been practising those yoga positions again?"

"Something like that," Hutch smiled waving farewell to Abby as she stood at her apartment window.

"So what we got lined up today?" Starsky queried as they drove away.

Hutch pulled out a notebook from the glove compartment and began flicking through the pages.

"Couple of meets … a follow up on that liquor store robbery. Just a normal day in the life."

"Does this normal day in the life keep us out on the streets … outta Dobeys way?" Starsky asked hopefully.

"There's always a possibility," Hutch replied and then smirked as a radio call came through. _"Zebra three … zebra three … Captain Dobey requests a meeting in his office."_

"On the other hand … late with your paperwork again Starsk," Hutch goaded.

"Think we can get away with the usual static trick?"

"Not this time partner," Hutch replied picking up the mike. "This is Zebra three … please inform Captain Dobey that we're on our way in."

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Twenty minutes later the two detectives walked into Dobey's office.

"What's up Cap'n?" Starsky grinned.

"Shut the door." Dobey replied his manner solemn.

"Hutch I'm beginning to think I'm gonna get busted for more than late paperwork." Starsky jibed as he closed the office door.

Dobey cleared his throat, "Um … Starsky I think you need to sit down," he nodded towards the seat in front of his desk and waited for both men to be seated before proceeding.

"Early this morning one of our uniformed officers was shot whilst responding to a ten sixty-four," he said. "This was found next to the murder weapon." He handed the curly haired detective a crumpled piece of paper.

Starsky stared incredulously at the note.

Hutch looked curiously between his partner and Dobey and then after several minutes of silence lifted the paper from his partner's hand. He quietly read the scrawled message:

_**#3 FOR STARSKY**_

_**YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO**_

With a worried glance at his friend he handed the note back to Dobey. "Do we know Prudholm's safe under lock and key?" The question was automatic.

"Already checked … he's still in the mental hospital." Dobey replied.

"Have there been any phone calls?" Hutch asked.

"No … nothing yet … but I've left strict instructions … any calls coming in for Starsky will get recorded"

"So what do we have here? … a copy cat?" Hutch continued, glancing once more at his partner.

"Not possible … we never released details on the previous killings. Our best guess is it's someone who either knew George Prudholm six months ago or knows him now … it's the only explanation for the level of knowledge," Dobey growled.

"What was the officers name?" Starsky asked quietly.

Dobey looked at the man now slumped before him. "I don't think you need to know that right now Dave," he responded carefully.

Starsky stood abruptly, leaned against the desk and stared at the man seated there. "Yeah Cap'n, I think I do," he said, voice dangerous. "I wanna know the name of the guy who's lying dead in the morgue. I wanna know if he had a wife, if he had kids. I wanna know all the details 'bout another cop who just got wasted cause of me!"

Hutch stood alongside and placed a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "Starsk!" he said, "this is not your fault."

"Don't give me that," Starsky replied shrugging off the hand. He moved away from the desk, stood facing the wall for a few moments and then turned to face his partner.

Hutch recognised the look in his best friend's eyes. "_I'm on the edge, I'm hurting and I don't know what to do."_

"What's the plan Cap'n?" the blond detective asked, aware of the need to refocus his partner.

"Same as last time," Dobey replied. "We say nothing to the press … keep the lid on tight until we flush this creep out."

"There is another way." Starsky offered. "We all know that if I do what this guy wants, if I resign, this ends now and nobody else has to die."

"No way Starsky I wouldn't allow it six months ago and I'm not gonna allow it now." Dobey bellowed.

"You really think I'm gonna sit back this time and let some crazed nut start killing again." Starsky shouted in return.

"Yeah I do … as long as you work in Bay City you're gonna follow my orders. And I'm ordering you not to resign … do I make myself clear Detective Starsky!"

"Oh I hear ya loud and clear Captain Dobey … but I don't have to like it!"

Hutch watched his partner storm out of the office and then moved to follow.

"He's gotta be strong," Dobey's comment was calm, heart-felt.

"I don't know if he can be this time Cap'n," Hutch replied as he walked out the door to find his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's chapter 3 – hope you like it. Any "Britisms" or mistakes are mine, please let me know if you spot any.

**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 3**

As he approached the house he noticed the drapes in his bedroom move. So she'd gone in there against his wishes after all. He wasn't surprised.

By the time he stood in the hallway she was in front of him and, as usual, shouting.

"So … you haven't been taking your medication," she screamed.

Ignoring her he climbed the staircase; his mother close behind continued her tirade.

When he entered his room she followed. "Wait till I tell Dr Grimes," her final words as he closed the door behind them.

"And another thing," she continued, "what are those newspaper clippings? Who is Detective Starsky?" She pointed to the notice board and the cuttings he'd pinned there. "This tells me all I needed to know about that despicable Prudholm person. I was right about him all along."

"No … you're completely wrong about Georgie, he's the kindest person I know … he really cares about me … more than you or father ever did. As for those clippings," he continued dangerously, "they are none of your business. And mother I thought I'd made it perfectly clear that you were not to come into this room again … ever."

"Of course it's my business. Whilst you're living in my house everything you do is my business, and," she continued, "I have every right to come into this room if I choose to do so."

"But it won't be your house for much longer," he responded, matter of fact, as he sat at his desk and picked up a pen. "And you have no right to interfere in my life."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, moving to stand alongside him. "Peter you're behaving irrationally, you haven't been taking your pills," she held up an unopened bottle to demonstrate a point. "And it's effecting your behaviour."

He shrugged his shoulders and began writing, his mother's words not worth an acknowledgement.

Furious she began to leave. "I'll be speaking to Dr Grimes about this when we see him tomorrow," her parting words.

In an instant he was in front of her blocking her exit. "You're not coming with me tomorrow," he breathed.

"Of course I'm coming with you, and I'm going to tell him that you've stopped taking your medication … I'll tell him about your strange behaviour … and I'm even going to suggest they take you back in for observation."

"You're not going to do that," he moved closer.

"Oh I'll do it … and I'll make it perfectly clear that you are to have nothing further to do with George Prudholm … he's been a bad influence on you all along."

Peter Langdon gently caressed his mother's cheek. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that you'll be telling Grimes any of that … and nobody is going to stop me from being with Georgie," he said as both hands tightened around her throat and began to squeeze.

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Starsky and Hutch knew the Prudholm file inside out. Both had been through it enough times to know every pertinent fact, every minute detail about the man who, six months earlier, had made Starsky's life a living hell. But that didn't stop them pulling the file again following the meeting with Dobey.

Sifting through his share of the copious notes Hutch pondered every nuance of the case. In a complete act of self-defence his partner had shot and killed a kid named Lonnie Craig. And in true Starsky "guilt trip" fashion had taken the young felon's death extremely hard. What should have been a purely internal investigation turned into a paparazzi "free for all" when self-righteous bureaucrats decided to put Starsky's case in the public domain. Being paraded on television had left his friend open to every nut job in Bay City.

Enter George Prudholm. He was an ex-con who blamed Starsky for the death of his son, and as he watched the Lonnie case unfold on TV he'd completely empathised with the situation. Spurred on by the view that Starsky's complete exoneration was a travesty of justice (two innocent kids had been murdered by a dirty cop) he'd demanded the detective's resignation. When that didn't happen, Prudholm killed two uniformed cops in cold blood, putting the blame squarely on Starsky's shoulders. Hutch would never forget the look on his friend's face each time Dobey reported a death.

"So we know it's not a copy cat," he said to his too quiet partner.

"Yeah … that's all we know," Starsky replied flicking through his notes. "We've got nothing Hutch … I mean we know everything there is to know about this guy … he didn't have any friends … nobody talked to him at his apartment block … guy was a complete loner." Starsky tossed the pages back into the file.

"There must have been someone," Hutch commented, "someone he trusted enough to confide in."

"If there was then he ain't in the pages of this file … could we have missed something?"

"We sifted through that guy's life with a fine tooth comb."

"Yeah well … maybe we overlooked something." Starsky said as he once again picked up the Prudholm file.

Hutch nodded towards his partner's empty coffee cup, "you wanna refill?" he asked.

"Sure … make it a strong one … I gotta feeling it's gonna be a long day."

As the blond detective walked over to the percolator the phone rang. Starsky answered.

"Is this Detective Starsky?" the muffled voice an obvious attempt at disguise.

Starsky snapped his fingers at Hutch, _"trace the call_," he mouthed.

"Yeah … who's this?" he replied.

"Let's just say that I'm a man on a mission."

"Okay I'll bite … what kind of mission?" The longer he kept this guy on the line the greater the chance of tracing him.

"A mission to kill you." The voice was devoid of emotion as the caller continued, "but first I'm going to make you suffer."

"You know I think I've heard this before … from a punk named Prudholm … he a friend of yours?" Starsky goaded. It was enough.

"Don't talk about him like that," the voice now angry, "he's a great man … he told me what you did to his son … what you did to that sixteen year old boy."

"Yeah … did he also tell you how I took him down … and how I enjoyed it."

Silence.

The curly haired detective looked at his partner. Hutch signalled a need to keep the guy talking for two more minutes.

"Hey … you there?" Starsky questioned.

"Oh I'm here … you think you're so smart but you won't be feeling that way this time tomorrow. This time tomorrow I'm gonna kill another cop. I'm gonna kill another cop … and his family."

Starsky stared in horror at this partner. Hutch knew the look, knew what his friend was about to say even before he said it.

"Wait … you don't need to do that. You want me to resign," in desperation, "I'll resign … you'll read about it in the paper tomorrow."

"Oh we've gone way past that Detective Starsky. This is not about you resigning … this is about you knowing that people are dying because of you and that there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. And when you finally can't take anymore it's about me killing you."

"Okay … you wanna kill me … I'll give you that chance right now … you name the place and I'll meet you there … alone." Starsky shouted into the phone, ignoring his partner who was shaking his head in disapproval at the suggestion.

"Oh no … not yet," the man responded obviously pleased by the outburst. "But we'll talk again soon," he said before hanging up.

Starsky, pale faced, looked at Hutch. "Did we get it?" he asked.

"Yeah," his partner smiled, "we got it … there's a patrol car on route."

The jubilation was short lived as Dobey entered the office. "We were too late," he advised the two detectives. "By the time we got there guy had vanished."

Starsky slumped down in his chair, head in hands.

"There's something else Starsky," the police captain continued solemnly, "call was made from a payphone opposite St Joseph's school, two blocks from here." The room fell silent. "A lot of our kids go to that school, including my Rosie."

z3z3z3z3z3z3

He felt extremely pleased with himself as he left the psychiatrist's office. He'd played the cured, repentant little rich boy to a tee, completely fooling Dr Grimes. He'd even invented a perfectly plausible excuse for his mother's absence; _"she's playing bridge with friends, she sends her regards and a thousand dollar donation!"_

He made his way happily to the visitors lounge, it had been several days since he'd seen Georgie and he was looking forward to their time together.

Five minutes later Peter Langdon sat smiling in the presence of the man he loved more than his own father.

"How's that bitch of a mother been treating ya … you still under her thumb?" Prudholm laughed.

Langdon also laughed. "No, no … I dealt with her just like you told me to … I'm finally rid of her."

"Good … good … wouldn't want anything to get in the way of our plans now would we."

"It's started Georgie," Peter grinned. "I'm doing everything you asked me to do."

"That's good … that's good," Prudholm patted the hand of his young friend. "You're doing very well son."

"Thanks … you know I'm doing it for you, don't you? I'd do anything for you."

"I know … you're a good boy … you know you remind me of my son Gary … I ever told you that?"

Peter grinned, "all the time Georgie … all the time." It was the compliment he loved the most.

"Well I'm telling ya again … he'd have been about your age now, if," he continued angrily, "that pig hadn't of killed him."

"I'm sorry you lost him," the words were heart felt.

"Well what you're doing makes up for it," Prudholm responded, calmer. "How did Starsky sound when you spoke to him?"

"Like a man on the edge … it's not going to take much to push him over … the next kill ought to do it." Langdon paused, contemplating his next words. "But I've been thinking Georgie … maybe I should just kill Starsky out right … I mean maybe nobody else has to die … I could do it tomorrow, bullet right between the eyes." He looked enthusiastically at the older man.

"You're not going soft on my are you kiddo?" Prudholm responded unhappily. "You know we've got to tighten the screw … the whole reason we planned it this way is cause that pig's gotta feel the guilt. You gatta remind him that he's responsible for the deaths of all those innocent people."

"Of course Georgie … of course we'll do it your way," Peter replied ashamed that he'd upset his friend.

"Then do everything just as I told ya … tomorrow I want ya to take out a cop's family … kiddies and all."


	4. Chapter 4

**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 4**

Everybody said that for his age Jack Brown was a sprightly man. He'd always led an active life, had won numerous medals during the Second World War and had prided himself on his preparedness to try new things; for his seventieth birthday for example he'd learnt how to surf.

A policeman for over thirty years, he'd joined the force after the war. Now retired he spent his days keeping busy in the garden and looking after his ten year old grand-daughter, Amy. His job, and he loved it, was to pick her up from school and take care of her until his son, also a cop, finished work.

The day was no different from any other. He'd chatted with some of the Moms at the school gate, commenting on the number of cop cars patrolling the area. Amy was a little late, had been looking for her coat, so by the time they began the short work home most of the other children had already left.

A few blocks from the school Jack failed to notice the dark sedan that pulled up behind them. But he couldn't help but notice the subsequent sound of a gun firing as both he and his young grand-daughter flew through the air.

z3z3z3z3z3z3

As they walked into the precinct the looks said it all. Starsky had seen them before six months earlier so he knew right away there'd been another killing; he just didn't know the details … yet. He was about to find out as they entered Dobey's office.

"Sit down … both of you," the police Captain said, nodding towards the chairs in front of his desk.

Starsky shook his head. "I'll stand," he said, then looking directly at the older man asked the dreaded question. "Who?"

"Jack Brown, retired five years ago," Dobey answered quietly, "and … his ten year old grand-daughter."

The shock was too much for Starsky, he'd hoped it had all been an idle threat; surely not a child! Knees buckling he felt his partner by his side as he was eased into a chair, hands gently rubbing his back.

"Easy … easy Starsk," Hutch soothed. "Cap'n … get him some water would you."

Moments later Starsky was sipping from the proffered cup, swallowing the cool water whilst listening to the continued discussion.

"What happened?" Hutch asked.

"About an hour ago … Brown met his grand-daughter from school … happened on the way home. Two shots fired … old man's dead, grand-daughter's alive."

Starsky looked up, hopeful.

"But critical," Dobey continued.

"Any witnesses? … we get any leads?" Hutch questioned.

"No witnesses … punk used a stolen car, left it at the scene … forensics didn't find any prints … but they did find this," he threw an evidence bag onto the desk.

Through the plastic covering the ominous words could clearly be seen.

#4 & 5 FOR STARSKY

ANOTHER FAMILY YOU'VE DESTROYED

When the expected rant didn't happen Hutch looked worriedly at his partner. Starsky sat slumped in his chair, hand covering his face, eyes closed, unable to take on board what was happening.

Dobey was also worried. Starsky was a good cop, one of his best. He'd gotten to know the young man very well over the years and not just on a professional level. So he knew that the man sitting in front of him was near breaking point.

"Take him home Hutch." It was a simple statement but the blond recognized it for what it was. _"I care about your partner too!"_

The atmosphere as they left Dobey's office was tense. Most of the men and women who worked with them had a family, children. Famous words "_there but for the grace of God_," rang true in this situation; anyone of them could be mourning right now.

Hutch knew that most of the people now staring at them as they walked down the corridor would not blame Starsky for what happened, but he also knew that emotions were running high. It was important to get his friend out of the precinct before things that shouldn't be said, were said.

Too late! The young uniformed cop now standing in front of them pointed an accusing finger at Starsky and vented his anger.

"I knew Jack Brown you bastard," he shouted. "I know his son … and little Amy's best friends with my daughter … she's just a little girl." He moved closer to the two detectives, everyone around watching and listening as he continued the onslaught. "You may not have pulled the trigger Starsky … but you kill-" the words remained unfinished, Hutch's punch saw to that.

All looked dumb struck at the man now lying on the floor.

For Starsky it was the final straw. "He's right you know," he shouted at all around him. "It is my fault … I killed them … is that what you wanna hear? … it's my fault they're dead." He pushed through the small crowd and into the john.

Hutch found him a few moments later emptying the contents of his stomach into a wash basin. The blond said nothing as he wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder to support his shaking form. When the heaves had abated both men stood in silence.

Finally, tears running silently down his face Starsky looked at his partner. "They're right," he said. "It is my fault!"

"You're wrong Starsk … none of this is your fault … there's nothing you could have done to prevent any of this."

"I should've killed him … I should've killed Prudholm six months ago … if I'd done that," Starsky swallowed, "that old man … would still be alive."

Hutch gently squeezed his friend's shoulder. "How long have I known you?" he asked.

Starsky said nothing as Hutch continued. "I've known you long enough to know that if you'd done that … if you'd pulled that trigger back then you would've never forgiven yourself … and we don't know for sure it would have prevented any of this."

Starsky silently nodded, Hutch was probably right. But he was close to the limit. "God … I don't think I can take anymore … I can't take it anymore!" he sobbed, finally braking down.

Pulling his partner into a tight embrace, Hutch spoke soothingly to the man now clinging to him as if his life depended on it. "I know buddy … I know," he whispered. "C'mon let's get you home."

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Dobey had ordered around-the-clock surveillance on Starsky's apartment. Hutch was grateful for that as he stood waiting for Huggy. He'd made an appointment to meet with Prudholm's psychiatrist, but there was no way he was leaving his partner alone right now.

The journey home had been a silent one, Hutch drove whilst his partner sat slumped against the passenger window, eyes closed. Back at the apartment when the blond suggested he get some rest Starsky had offered no resistance; completely exhausted both emotionally and physically he was soon asleep.

Hutch was already drinking his second cup of coffee when Huggy Bear arrived.

"Thanks for coming so fast," Hutch said as he opened the door to his friend.

"Hey … no problem … how's he holding up?" Huggy asked, looking around the room for the curly haired detective.

Hutch nodded towards the bedroom. "He's not doing too well Hug … this has hit hard."

"Yeah … figured as much … if it's anything like the last time."

"It's worse than the last time … much worse!"

"What's the beef? … wanna clue me in," Huggy said, pouring himself a coffee from the percolator.

"Two dead … and a kid on the critical list," Hutch informed his friend.

"A kid … what d'ya mean a kid … a cop's kid?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yeah … seems like Prudholm's picked himself up an admirer … one that's willing to kill for him, not just cops but children too."

"Man … no wonder Curly's close to the edge. You know what the guy wants? … he want Starsk to resign? … like last time."

"No," Hutch sighed, "this time the end game's to push him over the edge … … once that's happened he's going in for the kill."

"Anything I can do?" Huggy asked.

"Just keep an eye on him for a couple of hours … don't let him leave here without me," the blond nodded towards the window. "We gotta patrol car on guard duty so you should be safe."

"What you gonna do?"

"Talk to George Prudholm's shrink … see if he knows anything," Hutch picked up the car keys. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said as he looked over at his partner's bedroom.

Huggy knew the look. "Don't worry Hutch," he said, "I'll take care of him for ya."

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Langdon had learnt how to clean a rifle from an early age. His father had been president of the local gun club and had taken him along most weeks, the only show of kindness he'd ever received.

As he carefully placed the wadding in the barrel he looked lovingly at the newspaper clippings of George Prudholm. His friend would be proud of him.

"It's all working out just as you planned it Georgie," he said out loud, smiling at the crumpled black and white photographs of his friend.

And he was right. So far the plan had worked perfectly. He'd witnessed Starsky leave the precinct, seen how hard the detective had taken the last shooting. Georgie had been right; the key to pushing the cop closer to the edge had been the death of that child

And he knew that the next killing would definitely be the proverbial "final straw." It would push Starsky all the way over that edge; leave him completely devastated and begging for his own death.

Peter Langdon looked through the newly cleaned rifle sight at the notice board above his desk. He took aim at the blond haired man in one of the newspaper photographs.

"Bang, bang you're dead … Detective Hutchinson," he said.

---

_Okay – call me an old softie but I just couldn't kill that little girl. I just couldn't do that to poor Starsk!_


	5. Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter – many thanks for all the reviews (Aussie Mitcham, Janet Brown and brookgirl51 can't respond to you personally so posting my thanks here).

As usual any "Britisms" or errors are down to me.

**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 5**

By the time Hutch arrived at The Rivermead Institute it was late in the afternoon and Doctor Matthew Grimes was getting ready to leave for the day. Although reluctant to see the detective at first (had a dinner party to get home for) he'd acquiesced once "cop killings" were mentioned.

When Hutch entered the office Grimes was seated at his desk. "So how can I help you Detective Hutchinson?" he asked.

"I take it," Hutch said pulling a notebook from his jacket, "that you're familiar with the George Prudholm case,"

"Yes … one of our newly admitted patients, he's been with us about six months." Grimes glanced at his watch.

"You're his psychiatrist … is that right?"

"I have been working with Mr Prudholm, yes that is correct ... where is this leading Detective, I have limited time."

"There have been two killings in as many days … Officer Blakeman yesterday and Jack Brown, retired cop murdered early this afternoon." Hutch said as he sat in the chair opposite the psychiatrist's desk.

"And the connection to George Prudholm is …?" Grimes asked.

"Evidence found at the scene suggests a link to Prudholm ... if you're familiar with his case you'll know about his obsession with Detective Starsky." The Doctor nodded, prompting Hutch to continue. "Then you'll also recall the notes that Prudholm left after every shooting ... naming Starsky ... the exact same notes were left yesterday and today."

"I see … I take it you've ruled out the copy cat theory."

"Killer knows too much unpublished detail … it's somebody Prudholm either knew at the time or has been in touch with since … he had had any visitors since he's been here?"

"I'll need to check that for you," he pressed a button on the intercom. "Miss Taylor would you be kind enough to bring us the visitor record book please." And then by way of explanation, "we keep a strict record of any patient contact with the outside world."

"Does that include mail? … You keep a record of any letters in or out?"

"Any correspondence is meticulously vetted … we are after all experts at dealing with the criminally insane," Grimes replied as Hutch recorded the answer.

A few moments later a slender woman in her mid-twenties entered the office. She glanced appreciatively at the blond detective as she handed a book to the psychiatrist.

"Thank you Miss Taylor," Grimes said as she left. He started flicking through the pages. "No … there are no records of any outside visitation since Prudholm's been here … except," he paused to verify. "Except for Peter Langdon, one of our ex-patients … he saw him briefly yesterday morning."

"Ex-patient?" Hutch queried as he stood to examine the applicable page.

"Yes … released a few days ago, completely reformed. I understand he was acquainted with Prudholm whilst he was here ... I imagine he was simply paying his respects."

"Are you sure? … You mentioned they were friends. How close were they?"

"They got along well enough to play cards together in the recreation area … but I did not witness a close bond … they both come from completely different social backgrounds after all."

"I'd like to ask Langdon a few questions … what's his address?" the detective asked ready to record the answer.

"I'm sorry but I have to adhere to a certain protocol ... unless you have clear evidence that Peter Langdon is involved I am not at liberty to provide an address." Grimes glanced once more at his watch.

Hutch, patience waning, looked dangerously at the psychiatrist. "Dr Grimes," he growled. "A ten year old kid's on the critical list ... people are being murdered ... now the killer is clearly connected to Prudholm and since he's locked up in here it's safe to assume that he's getting information out to this person or persons somehow. Now maybe he gave this Langdon a note, did anybody check him when he left?"

"No – that would not have been deemed necessary … as I said Peter Langdon is …"

"A reformed patient … you said that … if that is the case then I'm certain he would not object to answering a few questions ... or I could of course return with a warrant in the morning ... on the grounds that you are obstructing a murder investigation," the threat was clear.

Dr Grimes, clearly perturbed, stood up from his desk. "There is no need for that Detective Hutchinson," he said quickly. "Carol will give you Langdon's address on your way out – now if you'll excuse me I have guests waiting for me at home."

z3z3z3z3z3z3

By the time Hutch left Rivermead it was early evening. Keen to get back to his partner he decided to postpone the Peter Langdon visit until morning.

When he got back the team guarding Starsky had changed. He checked with them that all was secure before entering the apartment. Huggy was sitting at the kitchen table eating an "ordered-in" pizza.

"Hey there Hutch," he grinned, "just in time for a slice of Italian delight ... specially delivered in from The Pits." He pushed the delivery box towards the blond detective.

"No thanks," Hutch grimaced. "You expanding your repertoire?"

"My repar what?" Huggy questioned grabbing another slice.

"Never mind ... how's Starsk?"

"Been awake 'bout an hour ... taking a shower. Thought I'd try an' get some food into him ... tempt him with this," he nodded towards the pizza box. "But he turned it down ... said he's not hungry."

"Thanks for trying Hug," Hutch told his friend as he filled a coffee cup.

"No problem ... anytime ... now you're back think I'll head on over to my place ... or what's left of it ... with Angela looking after the joint," he winked, "takings have got to be down"

As he opened the door to leave Starsky came out of the shower towel wrapped around his waist.

Huggy nodded a farewell at the detective. "Hang loose Curly," he smiled as he left.

Hutch offered up the percolator. "You want some coffee," he asked.

Starsky shook his head. "What did ya find out from the shrink?"

"Got a lead ... I'll follow through in the morning," the blond replied as he began pulling blankets from the linen cupboard.

"You staying?" Starsky queried.

Hutch threw a pillow onto the couch. "You gotta ask?" he said.

z3z3z3z3z3z3

The Langdon residence was large and certainly very impressive. Marble pillars, with no clear structural importance, adorned the front of the house; a pure statement of opulence.

Hutch stood in front of the solid oak door and pressed the bell for the second time; to no avail.

Noticing a side entrance he pushed open the wrought-iron gate and walked cautiously to the rear of the house. Although the back entrance was locked he found that the large French window was not. Lifting his gun from its holster he pulled it open and stepped inside.

The large oak-panelled study was another testament to wealth. Leather bound books filled numerous shelves; a large oak desk the main feature of the room. Hutch looked at the oil painting hanging on the wall above it. The man depicted in the portrait was obviously the head of the Langdon household, his whole demeanour spoke of a force not to be reckoned with

The hallway was just as impressive. A large crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Hutch made his presence known. "Police officer," he called out, "anyone home?" When nobody replied he made his way up the marble staircase to continue his investigation.

The largest room was clearly the master bedroom and of no interest to the detective at that time. He'd made the decision to look for Peter Langdon's room – he was certain he'd find some answers there. He found it further down the long corridor. A modest sized room devoid of any of the luxuries he'd previously witnessed.

As he entered he was immediately drawn to the contents of the notice board hanging above the desk. Completely covered in newspaper clippings the main focus of the entire display was obvious – George Prudholm.

Relieved that he'd left his partner behind (much to his friend's annoyance) Hutch glanced briefly at the numerous cuttings; it was not necessary to study them in any great detail, he'd seen them all before. He opened all of the desk drawers, looking for anything else that would link Langdon specifically to the recent murders. The newspaper articles alone were not incriminating enough.

When the search of the desk proved fruitless he looked through other drawers and cupboards in the room but found nothing. With the last remaining unchecked cupboard behind the open door Hutch moved to close it, and came face-to-face with the body of a woman hanging from the coat hook on the back of the door, she'd clearly been strangled. And by the look of the body she'd been dead for several days.

Picking up a nearby phone he called it in. Langdon's connection to the "cop killings" might still be unclear but with the discovery of a dead body in his bedroom Hutch now had just cause to bring him in for questioning.

Forensic unit enroute Hutch made his way back to his car. He'd left the Torino at Starsky's, rarely keen to drive his partner's flamboyant car. Ignition key in hand he pulled open the driver's door. He may not have heard the gunshot but he certainly felt it as the impact sent him sprawling to the ground!


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry this is a bit late – Christmas related activities with the kids all weekend (writing took a back seat I'm afraid!). Thanks for all the reviews of Chapter 5

**FOR GEORGIE**

The drive to the hospital had been frantic. At Dobey's request Huggy had delivered the news that Hutch had been shot to Starsky in person; both reluctant, in his present frame of mind, to let him drive himself to the hospital.

Details of Hutch's injuries had been sketchy. Huggy therefore had been unable to tell Starsky much. The only known fact had been the link to the Prudholm "hits" – a note had been left at the scene.

Once at the hospital Starsky had raced into ER, certain that he would find Hutch in a critical condition, if not dead! Heart pounding he entered the room.

Two pretty nurses stood giggling around the bed, obviously amused by something his partner had said or done. Hutch himself lay propped against the headboard, pillows fluffed up behind him enjoying the moment. The only indication that he'd been injured at all was the sling that encased his left arm.

Hutch took on board his partner's demeanour and politely ushered the nurses from his room. Starsky stood speechless at the side of the bed, staring at the blond detective.

"I'm alright Starsk," Hutch said quietly, reassuring his friend.

Starsky collapsed into a chair at the side of the bed. "God Hutch," he sighed in complete relief. "Almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Yeah … you and me both partner," he replied, squeezing Starsky's shoulder.

"Don't get me wrong buddy … I'm happy you're okay … but how in the hell is it you're not dead right now? … until now this guy hasn't missed a single "kill" shot."

"Got lucky … dropped the car keys, bent down to pick them up just as he made the shot … bullet only grazed my shoulder … needed a couple of stitches."

They stared silently at one another for a moment, each aware how close it had been.

Eventually Starsky broke the silence. "Thought he'd killed ya," he said. "Thought I'd killed ya!"

"Hey … hold it right there. You thought you'd killed me?" Hutch asked, incredulous. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Means you're connected to me … means that makes you a target … you got shot cause of me … you nearly got killed cause of me!"

"Starsk … I've said it before and I'll damn well say it again … there is no way you're responsible for this … for any of this. You think that I'm a target because of you? … buddy I became a target for every nut job in this city the minute I picked up that badge. Same as every cop in the precinct … we all accept that? When are you gonna realise that you're a victim here as much as the guys that got shot … what's been happening is not your fault … just like it wasn't your fault six months ago."

Starsky leapt to his feet, voice raised. "IS THAT RIGHT?" he shouted. "You wanna tell that to their wives … to their kids … to their mothers. Way I see it I started this whole thing rolling the minute I shot Lonnie Craig … the minute I did that I should've handed in my badge … then none of this would've happened."

"AND YOU THINK I WOULD'VE LET YOU," Dobey's voice boomed from behind.

Starsky turned to face the man standing in the doorway. Whatever he was about to say in reply was cut short as the police Captain continued. "SIT DOWN STARSKY," he bellowed.

Despite the urge to answer back, stand his ground, Starsky acquiesced and returned to the bedside chair.

"That's better," Dobey said voice softer. "How you feeling Hutch?" he asked as he sat down at the end of the bed.

"Fine, thanks Cap," the blond replied grateful for the concern as much as the timely rebuke of his guilt-ridden partner.

"Glad to hear it … glad to hear it. Guess you were lucky," Dobey grinned. "Forensics has confirmed that the note found at the scene was definitely from our man … looks like you should've been victim number six."

"What about the body I found in Langdon's bedroom?" Hutch questioned, keen to change the subject before his partner had time to think more about that particular possibility.

"Cheryl Langdon … his mother."

"Thought so … we got an estimate on time of death?"

"About two days," Dobey replied. "Bruising around the neck indicates she'd been strangled ... got a watch on the house … an APB out on Langdon … he won't get far."

"You sure about that, Cap," Hutch asked. "Family's got money … there anywhere else he could hole up?"

"We're checking that out," Dobey answered. "Got Ray Franklin following up on family assets … it they've got a second home somewhere we'll find out.

"Cap … we can pull Langdon in for his mother's murder," Starsky said, calmer now. "But have we got anything to link him into the other killings … what did forensics find at the house?"

"Rifle missing from gun cabinet … same calibre bullets as the murder weapon," Dobey confirmed. "And newspaper clippings dating back to Lonnie Craig … enough to justify an arrest warrant."

"We need to hit the streets," Starsky stated. "They say when you can get out of here?" he asked his partner.

"Just waiting to be signed out … the usual procedures … Doctor's due back any minute."

"Just a minute," Dobey held up a hand. "You," he pointed at Starsky "are off the case until further notice. And you," he motioned towards Hutch, "are in no fit condition to go anywhere. You got stitches in that shoulder … that's gotta hurt like hell. I want you both sitting this out … at least for the next couple of days … I've got this covered, you two are not the only detectives in Bay City you know."

"I know that," Starsky grimaced, "but I gotta be a part of this … you know that … you know I gotta vested interest in this."

"We've both got a vested interest in this," Hutch interrupted. "Look I'm okay Captain … I told you I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that detective," a doctor said as he walked into the room.

Huggy Bear followed closely behind. "Hey there Hutch," he grinned. "You look good for a dead man!"

The police Captain stood to shake the doctor's hand. "Captain Dobey," he said, "what's the official prognosis on Detective Hutchinson?"

"If you'll just give me a few minutes to complete my examination I'll let you know," the doctor replied making it clear that now was the time for them all to leave.

"I'll go get us some coffee," Huggy volunteered. "Meet you back up here in ten."

"We'll wait outside," Dobey advised as he and Starsky left the room.

"Um … I need the john," the curly haired detective said as he walked away from his captain.

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Once out of sight Starsky walked straight past the men's bathroom and into the elevator at the end of the corridor. Five minutes later he was standing in front of the ICU reception desk.

"Can you tell me which room Amy Brown is in?" he asked quietly.

"Room thirty-five," the middle-aged receptionist replied. "But only immediate family have visitation rights I'm afraid … can I ask who you are?"

"I'm a detective with Bay City … Doris," Starsky replied, reading the name badge pinned to the woman's shirt. "Part of the investigation team … just wanted to see how she's doing," the smile was to die for!

Doris, old enough to be the young detective's mother, smiled back. "Oh … I see," she said, brushing the hair back from her face. "Well she's got a long way to go, but she's holding her own." She noted the concerned face. "Tell you what," she continued. "Why don't you just go down there and see for yourself … you're not allowed to go in, but you can see Amy through the observation glass."

Nodding his thanks Starsky walked along the corridor until he reached the applicable room. He'd been careful not to mention his name, unsure as to how the family would react to his presence; he didn't want to cause a scene.

He looked through the glass at the little girl, at the various tubes that connected her to life support, at the rhythmic lines that danced across the screen, monitoring the beat of her heart. An elderly woman lovingly arranged Amy's long brown hair around her pale face, then kissed her cheek and turned to leave. Noticing Starsky at the window she smiled at him sadly and then, a few moments later, joined him in the corridor.

"I think she's doing better today," she said quietly.

"That's good," Starsky replied. "I'm sorry for what happened."

"Thank you … I'm Alice Brown," she offered her hand in introduction. "I'm Amy's Grandmother."

"Dave," he said as he shook her hand. "I'm a cop." A simple statement.

"Have you any idea who did this to my Granddaughter … who killed my husband?"

"We have a lead Mrs Brown," Starsky answered, "we're doing all we can." He wanted to tell her the truth, to tell her about Prudholm, about Peter Langdon, about his own connection to all that had happened, but years of training held him back. One wrong thing said now could jeopardize the entire case against Langdon and he couldn't let that happen.

Mrs Brown looked thoughtfully at the handsome detective. "Oh please call me Alice," she said patting Starsky's arm. "I know you're doing all you can Dave … and I know you can't tell me too much … after all I' m married," she paused, "or should I say was married … to a cop."

"I'm sorry about Jack," he said softly.

"He was a good man … everybody loved him … I loved him … you know that next year would've been our Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary," she swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

Placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort he squeezed gently. "We'll get who ever did this Alice," he said. "I promise you we'll get him!"

z3z3z3z3z3z3

Starsky was grateful for the solitude of an empty elevator as he left ICU. He leant against the cool steel wall and closed his eyes. He wanted to shout and scream and kick out against everything that had happened since the day he'd shot that sixteen year old boy. A plethora of emotions surged through him: anger, hatred, despair and, the strongest of all, pity. Pity for the dead and wounded victims of two mad men but most of all pity for himself!

Throughout the Prudholm "nightmare" six months earlier there had been one thought that constantly plagued him - why me? _"Of all the cops in Bay City, of all the emergency responses - why me?" _It was a thought that he'd berated himself for time and time again. "_You think you've got it bad Starsky, what about the victims, what about the ones left behind, pull yourself together."_ But he'd found it difficult to do back then and he was finding it difficult to do now. Because after all Hutch was right, he was as much a victim of George Prudholm as any of the others.

He exited the elevator on the ER level and headed back to Hutch's room. Huggy was waiting for him at the reception desk.

"Hey Starsky … where you been man?" Huggy asked. "Dobey's been looking for ya."

"Just something I had to do," he replied. "What's the news on Hutch? … he had the all clear yet?"

"Yeah … he's about ready to check out of this joint … just waiting on the paperwork to be signed … Dobey's seeing to that right now."

"That's great Hug," Starsky grinned. "That's great."

The reception desk phone rang and a nurse answered. After a brief conversation she looked up at the two men standing close by.

"Detective Starsky," she said. "I have a call for you." She handed him the receiver.

"Starsky here," he said.

"So … now you know what it feels like to loose somebody close."

The voice was menacing and although he didn't recognize it Starsky knew who the caller was. "Langdon," he growled in reply.

"Very clever … you know who I am … I'm impressed."

"Yeah … well it doesn't take a genius to figure it out … you really should have kept your presidency of the Prudholm fan club under closer wraps."

"Why would I do that? … Georgie is a great man … a wonderful father … I would do anything for him."

"That why you shot that little girl? Did Prudholm tell you to do that? Tell me Langdon how did it feel when you pulled that trigger? … what's it feel like shooting a kid?" Starsky goaded.

"I'm not responsible for any of this detective … you're the one to blame here … it's your fault I had to kill that girl … it's your fault she's dead."

"Oh she's not dead … just like my partner's not dead. What's your precious Georgie gonna say when he finds out you missed … that you failed him."

Langdon was silent a moment, clearly shocked by the news. And then, "I won't miss next time Starsky … next time I'm going to kill Hutchinson."

"You won't get the chance. See we know who you are, we got an APB out on you so hot that you're not gonna get within five feet of Hutch or any other cop for that matter."

"Then I'll go after another kid," Langdon threatened. "Maybe even an entire cop family."

"Not gonna happen … you're not going to be able to get anywhere near. We've got your house on lock-down … we've frozen your assets … you got nowhere to go." It was a bluff, one that Starsky hoped Langdon wouldn't see through. "I got an offer for you," he continued. "One time only … you name the time and place and I'll meet you, alone … give you the chance to full fill George Prudholm's long time dream … give you the chance to kill me."

Huggy listening to all Starsky had said stepped forward. The detective held up a hand to his friend halting any protest.

"Well punk," he said loudly, "what's it gonna be? We got a deal?"

"Place you took down Georgie in half an hour … come alone or I'll find a way to make you suffer … I'll find a way to kill Hutchinson."

With the call ended Starsky looked up. "I gotta go Hug," he said. "I gotta do this … put an end to it once and for all."

"I can't let you do it man … I can't let you throw your life away like that."

"You can't stop me," Starsky growled as he made to walk away.

Huggy in an attempt to stop his friend stood in front, baring the way. Moments later a fist connecting with his chin knocked him to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Starsky said softly as he patted the unconscious man's shoulder and removed the car keys from his jacket. "But I really have to do this!"


	7. Chapter 7

Here's the next chapter, sorry it's late (a wee thing called Christmas got in the way!)

Thanks for the reviews of chapter 6 (especially Brook5 as I can't send you a personal thanks).

Apologies as usual for any "Britisms" (is that actually a word?) that slip through and any typos, grammatical errors etc, etc are all mine (hangs head in shame if there are).

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**FOR GEORGIE**

**Chapter 7**

The first thing he noticed, as focus returned, was the small crowd that had gathered around him. The second thing was Hutch; his friend loomed above him, his face a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Oh man … my head!" Huggy groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Feels like I've been hit by a truck!"

"What happened Hug?" Hutch asked as he placed a supportive arm around his friend.

"Let's just say," Huggy replied, rubbing his bruised chin, "your partner's got one helluva left hook!"

"Starsk did this?" Hutch questioned, incredulous. "He hit you … why?"

"He got a call from that nut job … I heard him arrange a meet … tried to stop him taking off … guess he didn't wanna be stopped."

"Did you hear the place and time?" Hutch asked hopefully as he helped Huggy to his feet.

"No … sorry man … guy on the end of the line gave all the instructions … Starsky's just following orders ... this feel like déjà vu to you Hutch?"

"Yeah … all the way … which also means he's walking into a trap this time too."

Huggy nodded in agreement. "That's what I was thinking … so … what's the plan blondie?"

"Somehow we've got to figure out where Starsk went … how did you guys get here? He drive?"

"No … I picked him up … we came here in my car." Huggy felt in his pocket for his keys. "And looks like he left that way too."

"That's great Hug," Hutch grinned. "At least we got a way of tracing him now," he continued as he picked up the receptionists phone. "I'll get an APB put out on your car … maybe we'll get lucky."

Five minutes later with the call complete Hutch stood contemplating the next move.

Huggy broke the silence. "So where do we go from here?"

Hutch looked quizzically at his friend. "We?" he asked.

"Yeah … ain't no way you can drive with that arm in a sling … so your best bet would be for me to take the wheel ... besides I wanna help … Starsky's my friend too and I'm thinking he needs all the help he can get right now!"

Hutch placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Thanks Hug," he said. "All we need now is a car … any thoughts?"

"No problem my man … just leave that to yours truly … all you gotta do is give me directions … like what's our first port of call?"

"Think our best move would be to go back to the shrink … ask him a few more questions about his so called reformed patient … I'm pretty certain he knows more about Langdon than he's letting on."

"Sounds like a plan … go get your "happy pills" … I'll organize our ride." Huggy said as he picked up the phone.

"Just make sure it's not a hot one Hug," Hutch warned as he hurried off to collect his things.

z3z3z3z3z3z3

From the moment Langdon had mentioned the old zoo Starsky had been replaying his last meeting with George Prudholm over and over in his head.

He'd made a huge mistake that last time, one that, if it hadn't have been for Hutch, could so easily have been fatal. He'd let himself be carried away by his emotions, ignored all of his instincts (the ones that made him such a good cop) and let Prudholm have the upper hand.

This time, however, things would be different. This time, despite the similarities, he planned to stay focussed and keep his emotions in check.

At least that's what he told himself as he drove through the open wrought iron gates and into the abandoned Bay City Zoo.

Parking the car he opened the door slowly and eased himself out, gun in hand. Apart from the occasional sounds of bird song all was quiet as he moved cautiously through the dilapidated compound.

Walking past row upon row of empty cages he carefully checked each one, before moving to the next. But he knew the biggest danger was open ground and that's exactly what he faced next as he approached an intersection between the cages.

As he reached the end he raised his gun and peered cautiously around the corner, assessing the terrain. To his right the path veered up a steep hill, ideal geography for a sniper (Prudholm had proven that) whilst the path to his left led to an old children's play area; the equipment that still remained was rusty and broken.

He checked his watch – it was now the designated meet-time.

"LANGDON" he shouted, the word echoed through the enclosures, silencing the birds.

Nothing! All was quiet … _too quiet_ Starsky thought.

Decision made he moved slowly to his left towards the broken playground, which would at least provide some cover. Or so he thought. The sound of gunfire echoed in the air as he felt a searing pain in his left arm, forcing him to drop his gun. Seconds later Langdon appeared from nowhere, his shotgun pointed directly at Starsky's head.

"What ya waiting for?" Starsky asked quietly, seeming to be in complete acceptance of his fate. "Why don't ya get it over with?"

In an instant Langdon had reversed his gun and had slammed it butt first into Starsky's head, knocking him to the ground.

Langdon looked down at the unconscious detective. "Oh I'm not going to kill you Starsky," he snarled. "Not yet anyway … first you and I are going to have some fun … Georgie's told me exactly what to do!"

z3z3z3z3z3z3

They'd made the journey back to The Rivermead Institute in record time. Huggy had broken every speed limit enroute in a car that Hutch had made a point not to ask about.

As a matter of protocol Huggy stayed in the car whilst Hutch went in to meet with Grimes. As he stood waiting he thought fleetingly about the Doctor's pretty secretary Carol Taylor. At any other time he would have been grateful to meet with her again; the chance to fix a date. But this was not the right time. This time all he could afford to think about was getting his partner back – alive!

When Hutch entered Grimes' office he found the psychiatrist busy writing journal notes.

"What can I do for you this time Detective?" Grimes asked, without even looking up from his desk.

Hutch, in no mood for niceties, leaned over to close the Doctor's journal, thereby forcing absolute attention.

"The last time I saw you Doctor Grimes you told me about Peter Langdon … assured me he was in no way connected to George Prudholm."

"That is correct," Grimes answered, irritated by the blond detective's rude attitude. "As I told you then Peter is a fine example of how this Institute can provide a complete cure for any mental illness."

"So you said … and how do you know he's cured? … what do you base that assessment on?" Hutch asked politely, careful to remain calm; he still needed this man's help.

"We carried out all the required evaluation tests … Peter achieved a 100 percent score rating at every level … truly remarkable given his severely damaged psyche when he first arrived."

"And what procedures do you have in place to ensure there isn't a relapse?" Hutch queried. "Are there prescription drugs that he has to take?"

"Let me see," Grimes answered as he opened an adjacent filing cabinet and began examining one of the manila folders. After several moments he looked up at Hutch. "Yes … several as a matter of fact … and as long as he continues to take them as prescribed he won't pose a threat to anybody."

"What happens if he stops taking the drugs?" Hutch asked quickly.

"I'm sure there's little chance of that Detective … his mother is very strict with Peter."

"Dr Grimes, Cheryl Langdon is dead."

"What? … Dead?" Grimes said, incredulous. "How?"

"She was murdered … by her own son … your star patient … so tell me Doctor," Hutch continued. "What happens if Peter Langdon stops taking his the drugs?"

The psychiatrist, visibly shocked, reviewed his notes. "Umm … well let's see … failure to take his medication in the correct dosage, at the correct time would be a problem."

"Doctor … when we found his mother's body forensics went over the house with a fine toothcomb … they found his medication bottles … unopened … he's not been taking his drugs at all ... so how big a problem do we have here?"

Grimes re-examined the notes and then seemed reluctant to answer.

Hutch leant forward over the desk, inches from the psychiatrists face. "Peter Langdon is out there somewhere … and my partner's gone to meet him … so tell me," Hutch growled dangerously, "how big a problem would it be?"

"Um … well … he would most probably revert back to the time before he came here … go back to what he did before."

"What he did before? You mean kill again … he's already done that doctor."

Grimes looked down sheepishly at his desk.

"What else?" Hutch grimaced.

"What you have to understand is that Peter Langdon suffered years of child abuse … he needed an outlet for all of his pain … all of his frustration."

All patience lost Hutch grabbed the psychiatrist by his jacket lapels with his good hand, pulled him from his chair and thrust him up against the nearest wall. "WHAT ELSE?" he shouted.

"He ... he ... he," Grimes stammered, "liked … to … torture things … animals … insects… any thing. He liked to … torture them … to death."

Hutch released the doctor and stepped away. "So what you're telling me," he said quietly, dejectedly. "Is that right now my partner … my best friend … is probably walking into the hands of a complete mad man!"

---

**Happy New Year everybody – sorry to end on a cliff hanger (grins)**


	8. Chapter 8

Here's Chapter 8 - hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

(And just to let you know I've changed the rating for this story to reflect the increased level of violence (in this chapter and the next)).

Usual point of note: all errors are mine, please let me know if you find any.

For Georgie

Chapter 8

For Starsky the return to consciousness was slow and painful.

At first he could not localize the pain – it was everywhere; his whole body ached. But as complete awareness returned and he was able, eventually, to open his eyes he realized the pain was emanating from three separate areas.

First and foremost his head pounded, providing an instant reminder of the cause of his predicament; Langdon's vicious blow had knocked him unconscious. And it was his memories of Langdon that provided the clue for the dull ache in his left arm; he suddenly remembered being shot. He felt the slow trickle of blood as it seeped from the unbound wound and ran down his arm. With the pounding of his head abating slightly he slowly looked up. Judging by the damage the bullet was still in there and, although small, the wound was already slightly inflamed. Starsky knew, from experience, that unless he received treatment soon, unless the blood flow was stopped, he would be in serious trouble (as if he wasn't already!).

Looking up also identified the reason why his wrists hurt so much. They were bound tightly together by a thin length of cord which had cut deep furrows into the skin, causing them to bleed. What made it worse was that the cord, secured to a hook in the ceiling, had been used to suspend him several inches above the floor, his feet, also bound, barely touching the ground.

"So you're awake," Langdon's statement was simple but menacing.

"Nah … I'm still asleep," Starsky murmured sarcastically, lowering his head to face his captor. "And … this is all … a dream."

"Actually I'd say it was more like a nightmare … or it soon will be ... smile for the camera Detective."

The flash was blinding, reawakening the pain in his head and confirming his suspicion – he had a concussion.

"What's … the picture for Langdon?" Starsky asked quietly. "You starting a scrapbook?"

"It's a present for Georgie … one he's been waiting a long time for."

"You think he'll … ever get to see that?" Starsky grimaced, trying to gain some footing, take some weight off his mangled wrists. "Hutch ain't gonna let you get within a … ten mile radius of Prudholm."

"Oh I think I will … after all Georgie and I have been planning this for months … you think we wouldn't have thought about how to maintain communication … wouldn't have realized your precious Hutchinson would try to block us." Langdon, clearly pleased with himself, removed the Polaroid photograph from the camera and inserted it into a pre-prepared envelope. "You know … I still can't believe how easy it was to get you here ... how eager you were to sacrifice yourself for the greater good."

"Yeah ... well what can I say? ... I got a real problem letting ... innocent people get killed cause of me," it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate, but at least now he'd finally managed to gain a foothold, albeit a tenuous one.

"Innocent? ... They weren't innocent ... Georgie told me all cops are dirty … and I know that from experience … I was a victim … damaged by my own father and what did your precious police force do to help me? … Nothing … they weren't interested in helping me ... just like my mother."

"That why … you killed her? We found her body … know what you did."

"And I'm supposed to feel some kind of remorse about that … on the contrary detective," Langdon grinned, "I'm glad she's dead, couldn't wait to throttle the life out of her as a matter of fact. After all she was of no use to me any more … I only needed her for the money … you know what they say - money makes the world go round," he continued. "And they're right you know … with all my money I've made sure that the plan will succeed ... that I'll succeed ... for Georgie!" Langdon smiled menacingly as he walked around his captive.

"What money? … You don't have any money … all your assets have been frozen ... locked down," Starsky breathed deeply, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him; _Yeup … definitely got a concussion_ he thought.

"That's where you're wrong … I planned that too … my family are very rich … I've already siphoned off a large amount from the estate … put it somewhere you're partner will never find it … just like he'll never find you … not before it's too late." Langdon, pulling a switch-blade from his pocket, moved up close to the dark haired detective and flicked open the knife. "But I digress," he smirked. "We're running behind schedule … now where was I … oh yes the present for Georgie."

Starsky made every effort not to flinch as Langdon ran the blade lightly across his throat. Even when the sharp steel sliced through the leather cord of his necklace, cutting away the treasured object and opening a small gash in his neck, Starsky refused to make a sound, teeth clenched against the pain.

He looked on as Langdon placed the blood spattered necklace in with the photograph and sealed the envelope.

"Georgie will be so pleased with me," Langdon cooed. "You know he tells me all the time how like his son I am … the son that you killed."

"I didn't kill his son … Gary Prudholm was killed in a knife fight … in prison."

"But you sent him to that prison … if it hadn't been for you he would still be alive."

"Did your precious Georgie ever tell you … what his son was sent to prison for?" as the pounding in his head increased it was getting harder to stay focussed, "he tell you Gary broke into a liquor store? … and, although we couldn't prove it, was following his loving Daddy's instructions at the time."

"You're lying," Langdon growled dangerously.

"No … I'm not … but George Prudholm is … he didn't care two hoots about that son of his … just like he doesn't care two hoots about you ... he's just using you ... like he used Gary."

The punch to the stomach knocked Starsky's feet from under him and he swung from the ceiling hook, the bonds slicing deeper into his wrists. Coughing deeply he tried to regain his footing; regain his balance; ease the pain cascading from his swollen wrists, from the gunshot wound in his arm.

"DON'T EVER SAY THAT AGAIN," Langdon shouted, the knife placed inches from Starsky's face. "Say it again," he breathed deeply, "And I'll cut out your tongue ... do you understand? … DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The detective still coughing, fighting for breath nodded. Peter Langdon in an attempt to regain control of his anger paced the room.

"Actually," he said, moments later, an eerie calmness in the tone of his voice. "I've decided I don't want to listen to your inane ramblings any longer." Tearing a strip from a dirty old rag that lay nearby Langdon forced the tattered cloth into Starsky's mouth, tying it tightly behind his head. "Now … where were we?" he continued. "Ah yes … Gary Prudholm. Of course you know how he died … you would have read the report."

Starsky, now gagged by the fetid material, could only nod his understanding.

"And that's how we planned it you see … how Georgie wants you to die. How he wants you to suffer. Just like his son suffered … because as you know Gary didn't die in that knife fight … No ... it was several hours before he actually died … before he finally bled to death."

Starsky looked up at Peter Langdon through pain filled eyes, watching as the mad man approached again, the six inch blade glinting in his hand. Moments later, the knife pocketed, Langdon had torn another strip from the dirty cloth and had begun to wrap it tightly around his damaged arm.

"But I don't want you bleeding out just yet," Langdon grinned as he finished tying the make-shift bandage in place. "Have to get Georgie's present to him first ...... he's looking forward to it you see ... don't want to keep him waiting any longer." He picked up the envelope. "But don't worry I'll be back very soon and then ... then we can continue our fun time together!"

Once Langdon had gone, Starsky, his vision beginning to blur, gave up all attempts to maintain his footing, to keep the weight off his damaged wrists; the effort to do so proving too much for his tired body. And so he now hung loosely from the torturously tight bonds and closed his eyes, the pounding in his head now too much to bear.

"_Sorry Hutch,"_ he thought as darkness finally claimed him, _"I'm not getting out of this one alive!"_


	9. Chapter 9

Was planning to have this posted last weekend but built a snowman with the kids instead … great fun!! It's so unusual to get snow that thick here in London so it really had to be done (sometimes S&H has to take a back seat to real life).

Anyway, hope you like this next chapter – sorry it's late.

For Georgie

Chapter 9

"You have any luck with the APB on Huggy's car Cap?" Hutch asked the man at the end of the line hopefully.

"Sorry," Dobey answered. "Looks like we've drawn a blank … wherever the meeting place is it must be off the beaten track … you get anywhere with Grimes?"

Hutch looked over at the psychiatrist who, clearly still shocked by the detective's earlier outburst, sat meekly at his desk.

"Nothing we didn't already know … but he did just confirm what we suspected … Langdon not taking his medication is a big problem. We need to figure out where Starsk went to … fast."

"I'm with you on that," Dobey sighed heavily. "What's the next move?"

"I'll talk to Prudholm," Hutch replied. "You know I'd avoid it if I could, he's gotta be loving every minute of this … but it's our best chance right now … he knows where they are, probably fixed the location himself."

"I'd bet money on it … he organized everything else, why wouldn't he have arranged this too. You're right," Dobey encouraged. "I know talking to him face to face is gonna hurt like hell but … well … it's gotta be worth a shot … he just might slip up."

"I'm counting on it … because if this doesn't work …" the sentence remained unfinished, Hutch unable to voice what both men were thinking.

Dobey broke the silence. "Okay then," he said, before clearing his throat. "Call me when you have something … I've got a team standing by."

"Thanks Cap," Hutch said, ending the call. He rubbed at weary eyes with his free hand, the events of the past few days had taken their toll, but he couldn't afford the time to rest - not with Starsky's life on the line. He looked expectantly at the psychiatrist.

"I have organized your interview with Prudholm," Grimes advised, his attitude completely changed, now only too willing to assist. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Hutch, sitting in a chair in front of Grimes desk, squeezed his aching shoulder. "Yeah … I have a friend waiting for me outside … parked up in a brown mustang … I need him to bring in my medication."

"I'll see to it right away," the other man nodded and then into the intercom said, "Miss Taylor … would you come in here please." After a few moments of silence he stood up and walked towards the door. "She must be on a coffee break," he muttered. "I'll arrange for somebody else to get your friend."

Ten minutes later Huggy sat alongside the blond detective as he swallowed the prescribed drugs. "How's the shoulder holding out?" he asked, concerned by Hutch's appearance.

"I'll live … help me out here would you," he said, wincing at the pain as he began pulling his arm out of the sling.

"Hey! … What d'ya think you're doing? … You gotta keep that on, Doctor's orders."

"I'm not talking to Prudholm like this Huggy … I'm not giving him the satisfaction. As it stands at the moment he thinks I'm dead … so when I walk through the door, alive and kicking, he'll be shocked to see me ... it'll give me the upper hand. But the minute he sees I've been hurt I'll loose the advantage."

Huggy nodded his head in agreement. "You gotta point," he said as he helped his friend remove the sling.

"And I need to play this right," Hutch grimaced as he flexed the injured arm. "Because I think that whatever they arranged together … however many people they planned to kill … it's all been leading up to this one point … to draw Starsky out, to get him alone with Langdon."

"And kill him," Huggy stated quietly.

"Yeah, but I don't think Langdon will do it straight away … in fact I'm convinced he won't.

"What makes you think that?"

"Prudholm's insane, we know that. And we also know that since he watched the case on TV he's only been able to focus on one thing – Starsky. I think getting Langdon to kill him outright would be too easy … he'd want him to suffer first, not just mentally but physically."

Huggy looked horrified. "So you're telling me that you think this nut job is out there somewhere torturing Starsky!"

Hutch nodded slowly. "And if that is the case," he said grimly, "if I'm right, then there is a chance he's still alive right now, but I don't know for how much longer ... that's why I've got to get Prudholm to tell me the location of the meet." The detective stood up carefully, holding the injured arm across his chest for support. "But he's not going to do that outright … I've got to trip him up … trick him into giving it away."

Huggy, also standing, nodded his agreement.

"But you know I could be completely wrong about this," the blond continued sadly, "and if I am then Starsk could already be dead."

"Don't even think that man," Huggy murmured, placing a re-assuring hand on his friend's undamaged shoulder. "For Curly's sake, you can't afford to think that."

"I know Hug … I know," Hutch nodded as Grimes entered the room.

"He's ready for you Detective Hutchinson," the psychiatrist announced.

z3z3z3z3z3z3

The cold water cascading over his body pulled Starsky from blessed oblivion into a world of pain.

He hung limply from his bonds, to weak to even try to support his own weight. The cords tying his wrists were now so tight that he was unable to feel his hands. His head hurt so much that he couldn't even lift it to look at the tormentor who, once again, stood before him.

"Time to wake up," Langdon crowed, as he placed the now empty water bucket on the floor. "Aren't you going to welcome me back?" he added, grabbing a handful of his captive's wet hair and forcing his head up.

Starsky, still gagged, breathed heavily through the damp material, unable to stop the low, guttural moan that escaped when his head was pulled back further.

"No … why detective that's not very polite … and just when I thought you and I were starting to get along," he smiled, releasing his hold and walking away.

Starsky closed his eyes and hung his head. Water continued to drip from his hair, providing cool comfort to his fever-warm face, confirming his fear - the gunshot wound was infected.

"You know right about now Georgie will be admiring the photograph I sent him," the mad man boasted as he approached his victim once more. "When we finish our next little session I'll send him another."

Starsky found the strength to lift his head slightly. Although the gag prevented him from speaking his glaring eyes spoke volumes as he watched Langdon pull a flick knife from his jacket and open up the blade.

"Still full of bravado I see … I have to admit I'm beginning to admire your tenacity. Now where were we before I had to run my little errand ... ah yes … we were about to re-enact Gary Prudholm's death ... but first we need to get rid of this," he muttered, cutting through the makeshift bandage encircling the detective's arm and ripping away the dirty material. He ran a finger up his captive's damaged arm, following the trail of fresh blood until he reached the bullet wound. Then he slowly pushed the finger into the inflamed opening, smiling when Starsky cried out in pain.

"You know I've always had a morbid fascination with blood," he said as he pushed the appendage in deeper, eliciting another pain filled cry from the suspended man. Moments later he removed it and stared at the red covered finger. "As a child I spent a lot of time alone in my room, keeping out of father's way. And to amuse myself I used to carry out experiments on animals, checking if their blood was the same as our blood … if it had the same color … the same viscosity … the same taste," he grinned as he licked away the blood. After a few moments, knife in hand, he moved closer to his captive. "But I digress," he murmured. "Let us continue with Georgie's plan."

Starsky, his face now beaded in sweat, shivered slightly from the pain and fever as he desperately tried not to let the mad man see he'd been unnerved by his actions. "_God Hutch,"_ he thought, _"now would be a really good time to send in the cavalry."_


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to all who reviewed Chapter 9 (especially Janet since I can't thank her personally – welcome back from the frozen North)

Here's the next instalment – hope you like it – gotta admit I struggled a bit with this one, mainly because I'm not sure if I captured Prudholm too well.

As usual any errors are mine all mine.

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For Georgie

Chapter 10

As he stood watching George Prudholm Hutch had never been more grateful for the invention of the one-way mirror system. It meant that he could observe the man who had caused (and continued to cause) his partner so much pain before actually confronting him face to face.

As he stared through the mirror it was obvious that Prudholm had not changed much during the months of incarceration, was still the same angry middle-aged man that Hutch remembered. And it was also obvious that he was and always would be someone who blamed the world for his problems, even the ones that he'd caused himself. Faced with the death of his son he had been quick to pass the blame onto somebody else rather than accept his own part in the tragedy. It was unfortunate that in this case it had been Starsky who had borne the brunt of his anger; who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hutch was certain that had Prudholm remained oblivious to the Lonnie Craig case, had failed to watch his partner being paraded on national television that day then he would have found somebody else to blame.

But he had blamed his partner; had fixated on Starsky so much that he had, as the trial judge put it, "_crossed the boundary into insanity"_.

And as Hutch remembered the judge's summation he also remembered how hard it had been to sit in court during those proceedings, listening to evidence from fellow police officers who had lost partners and friends because of George Prudholm. But he knew it had been even harder on Starsky who continued to blame himself for each and every one of those deaths.

Hutch had done all he could to dissuade his friend from attending court and even Lonnie Craig's mother, whom Starsky had befriended, had tried to talk him out of it. But his partner had been his usual stubborn self, insisting on being there each and every day.

And it had been obvious that George Prudholm had loved every minute of it. As each witness had taken the stand, as each death had been described in detail, he'd watched from the dock, enjoying his partner's continued suffering. When it had been Starsky's turn to give evidence Prudholm had interrupted so much, had abused the dark haired detective so much that the judge ordered his removal from the proceedings and declared an early adjournment. Hutch had been quick to usher his friend from court that day, only too aware that Starsky had reached breaking point.

Continuing to stare through the mirror Huggy's voice finally roused him from his thoughts "Hey, you alright man?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hutch replied after a few moments. "Just forgot what a creep this guy is."

"I'm with ya there. You ready to go in?"

Hutch took a deep breath, nodded and moved towards the door. Opening it he looked back at his friend, at the man who had always been there to help. Whatever their needs, whether it had been information on a case or much needed respite from the horrors of "cop life" Huggy had always willingly provided it.

"Thanks for being here Hug," Hutch said sincerely before turning to leave.

Moments later he entered the room where George Prudholm sat waiting.

An orderly stood in the corner of the room, there to provide protection should Hutch need it. He nodded, acknowledging Hutch as he closed the door.

Prudholm sitting at a small, oblong table was obviously stunned to see the blond detective alive and reacted just as the blond detective hoped he would. "H .. Hutchinson," he stammered.

"What's wrong Prudholm? ... You look like you've seen a ghost." Hutch grinned as he sat down opposite his partner's nemesis.

"No ... just surprised to get a visitor so late in the day," the mad man countered, quickly regaining his composure. "What can I do for you detective?" he grinned back.

Hutch sat silently for a moment pleased when the man opposite began to look uncomfortable. And then he stood, walked over to the large mirror on the wall his back to Prudholm. He looked into the mirror knowing that Huggy was peering through on the other side. _"Let the games commence,"_ he thought as he turned to face the man at the table. "Starsky and I arrested somebody you know today Prudholm," he bluffed, keeping his voice steady. "Peter Langdon ... your Doctor has confirmed that you know him ... even said the two of you are friends."

For a moment Prudholm looked concerned. "Arrested?" he asked. "When?"

"A few hours ago ... we pulled him in for questioning ... squealed like a pig once we got him back to the station ... he owned up to trying to kill me. But says it was you that put him up to it ... looks like whatever you had planned has failed ... looks like Langdon failed." Hutch smiled and waited for the response he hoped he would get from the bluff.

But Prudholm didn't bite and instead, visibly relieved, smiled back. "You're trying to tell me that you and your partner have Peter," he laughed. "You're lying ... I know for a fact that ain't true cause I know that Starsky is ..." he stopped suddenly conscious of what he'd just said.

"You know for a fact Detective Starsky is what?" Hutch asked fighting to remain calm.

Prudholm, aware that he had almost walked into the detective's trap, looked impressed. "Nice try Hutchinson ... but I guess that's for me to know and for you to find out." He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms and grinned at the detective.

"What makes you think I'm bluffing?" Hutch asked, hoping that Prudholm hadn't detected the tremor in his voice. "You're so sure about Langdon but how can you really trust him. Somehow he got a message to you, told you he'd killed me and yet here I am ... alive ... proof he lied to you. So how can you be sure that whatever he told you about my partner is true?"

"Because I know Peter ... I know he'd never let me down. He's smart and he's got money ... money enough to see this thing through. You cops think you know everything but you don't. Me and Petie we outsmarted the lot of you. So what if he didn't get you he did what we set out to do – he's got your partner. And right about now," he checked his watch. "He's back there with him making him suffer, just like my Gary suffered."

"Back there with him?" Hutch questioned, trying to hide the flinch as the pain in his unsupported shoulder increased. "He's getting messages to you ... somehow he's updating you."

Prudholm stared silently at the detective for a moment then unfolded his arms, grinned and stood up from the table. The orderly moved in closer, ready to intervene if need be.

"We're done here Hutchinson," he said, matter of fact. "I've said everything I'm going to say to you." He walked towards the door. "Take me back to my room Mike," he addressed the orderly. "It's time for my nap now." He grinned at the blond detective. "Give my regards to Starsky when you find him ... if you find him."

Hutch, unable to control his emotions any longer, rushed towards Prudholm, slamming him into an adjacent wall. "Oh I'm going to find my partner," he growled both hands fisted in the other man's shirt. "And when I do ... you'd better hope that he's in perfect health because if he's not then I'm coming back ... I'm coming back to continue our discussion."

He released his hold and stood back.

Prudholm clearly distressed turned to the orderly. "You heard that," he muttered. "You heard him threaten me."

"Sorry ... but I didn't hear a thing." Mike replied, winking at Hutch as he escorted Prudholm out of the room.

Moments later Huggy entered the room. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hutch sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "Help me put this back on would ya" he asked pulling the sling out of his pocket.

"Sure," Huggy agreed helping his friend to re-support his arm. "Looks like you were right all along ... Prudholm does know where Curly is." Huggy added, tying the sling in place.

"But we're no further forward ... we still don't know where Starsk is ... I should've played it better Hug."

"Hutch don't beat yourself up man ... that maniac was never gonna give the game away and you know it."

"Yeah I know it," the detective nodded slowly as they walked back to Grimes' office. "Although I think he did give something away."

"What's that?" Huggy asked as they approached Carol Taylor's desk. Grimes' pretty secretary was back from her break and busy typing a letter. The clank of the keys followed them as they entered the psychiatrist's office.

"How did the interview go?" Grimes asked looking up from his desk as they closed the door.

"Prudholm didn't fall for the bluff," Hutch answered, dejected. "But he did make a mistake ... he did reveal something we can follow up on."

"And that was?" Grimes questioned.

"He's getting regular updates from Langdon ... somehow he's getting messages from the outside. You said you keep records of incoming mail. I need to take a look, figure out how they're getting through."

Grimes activated the intercom. "Miss Taylor would you please bring Detective Hutchinson the incoming mail record book."

Minutes later the secretary entered to give Hutch the requested book. He flicked through the pages until he reached the most recent dates. "According to this there have been no deliveries since yesterday," he reported, looking up at Carol Taylor as she made to leave. "Is this up to date?" he asked her.

She hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes," she said. "Can I go now Dr Grimes," she added looking to the psychiatrist for his approval.

Huggy looked over his friend's shoulder at the applicable page. "Just hang on a second there Hutch," he said. "That don't seem right ... when I was waiting for you in the car I saw a guy deliver a package and she," he looked at Carol Taylor, "signed for it."

The secretary looked uneasy as all three men stared at her.

"Um ... he must be mistaken," she stammered, "I'm positive we haven't had any deliveries today ... if we had I would've recorded it in the book ... I always record it in the book," she said as she backed away from the desk.

Hutch and Huggy moved slowly after the retreating girl, reacting swiftly when she turned and hurried towards the door. The blond detective, anticipating her actions, reached the door before her holding it firmly closed with his undamaged arm. "I think you have some explaining to do," he said. "Take a seat." He nodded towards the chair in front of Grimes' desk.

Sitting as instructed she looked up nervously when Hutch approached.

"Now I'm going to make an assumption here," he said dangerously. "I'm going to assume that you've been delivering messages under the radar to George Prudholm for a large sum of money." He perched on the corner of the desk and stared down at the now terrified girl, her reaction evidence that he'd assumed correctly. "So let me make it perfectly clear how much trouble you're in right now," he continued. "Firstly you've been aiding a wanted felon, that's a serious offence ... one that'll get you a straight three to five. And by doing so you've been obstructing a murder investigation, one that involves cops, that'll get you an additional five years."

"But I didn't know Peter was involved in any murders," Carol interjected, tears now streaming down her face. "I thought I was just helping him," she sobbed. "He told me that if his mother found out he was writing to George Prudholm she'd have him recommitted."

"And of course he offered to pay you a large sum of money ... just for being so helpful," he said sarcastically as he leaned forward into her line of vision. "Listen to me very carefully," he added quietly. "I can get you a reduced sentence ... tell the court you were tricked into helping Langdon, but only if you help me now. But if you don't," he growled, "and my partner dies because you didn't help me I'll make sure they add murder one to your rap sheet and you'll be an old woman before you next see the light of day."

The secretary nodded quietly and hung her head. "Of course I'll help you," she whispered. "I did get a delivery from Langdon today ... gave it to Prudholm, it's in his cell."

Grimes stood up from his desk. "I'll order a search," he offered and hurried out.

Ten minutes later he returned carrying a manila envelope which he handed straight to Hutch.

"Found it in Prudholm's room," the psychiatrist explained, "under his mattress."

The detective nodded his thanks as he opened the envelope emptying the contents onto the desk, careful not contaminate any evidence in the process.

Instantly he recognized the necklace now lying on the desk, how could he not when it had adorned his partner's neck for so long. And, despite the bloodied features, he instantly recognized the man in the photograph that lay alongside.

"Fucking bastard," Huggy swore as he also looked at the photograph that had fallen from the envelope. "Hutch if you don't kill that bastard Langdon I will," he muttered as he walked away from the detective in disgust.

Carefully picking up the offending item he stared at the picture of Starsky he held in his hand. It was obvious that his partner had been injured and hanging as he was must be in considerable pain. Hutch studied the image, desperately trying to view it as he would any other crime scene photograph; trying to concentrate on the detail rather than the bloodied face of his best friend. And so he focussed on the surrounding features, instantly recognizing the stone walls in the background.

"I know where this was taken," he said, looking up as Huggy returned to stand alongside. "I know where he is Hug."

He grabbed his partner's necklace from the desk and placed it in his pocket. "Dr Grimes," he continued urgently "call Captain Dobey ... ask him to send a squad car for her," he nodded towards the still crying secretary, "and tell him to meet us at the old Zoo ... that's where Langdon's holding Starsky."

"The Zoo?" Huggy questioned as he followed the blond detective towards the door. "Isn't that where you and Starsk picked up Prudholm?"

"Yeah ... Langdon's holding Starsky in one of the animal cages, recognized it in the photograph." Opening the door he turned back to the psychiatrist, who was already making the requested phone call. "And tell him to bring the paramedics," he added, remembering his partner's condition and hoping that they weren't already too late!


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for all the reviews of Chapter 10 – here's the next one, hope you like it.

As usual any errors and "Britisms" are mine.

---

For Georgie

Chapter 11

The natural light was fading in the animal enclosure that was now Starsky's prison, a sure sign that night was closing in. Langdon, who had prepared well for the detective's incarceration, simply turned on a portable generator. It grumbled to life, powering two, large electric lamps that stood nearby; they bathed the stone enclosure in an artificial light that cast long, eerie shadows up the walls.

Starsky, hanging limply from his restraints, shivered in the cool air not from the cold but from the fever that had taken hold of his body. Despite his growing illness he tried to remain focussed, to retain some awareness of Langdon's movements. He knew, therefore, that his jailor now stood behind him, so close that he could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck.

Despite the knowledge he couldn't help the shudder as he felt Langdon's fingers wrap around the material that was gagging him. Moments later he felt the cool steel of Langdon's blade on his neck as it sliced through the knot that held the fetid cloth in place.

"Now Georgie will be able to see the pain on your face more clearly when I take the next photograph," Langdon whispered in the detective's ear pulling away the once restraining cloth. "And for myself," he smiled, "I want to be able to hear your screams when I slice into your flesh."

Starsky, his mouth now free of its restraint, swallowed deeply. "Not ... gonna ... happen," he rasped his throat dry from hours without water. "Ain't gonna give ... you the ... pleasure."

"Well, well," Langdon laughed. "Still defiant I see ... Georgie was right about you after all ... he said you would put up a fight."

"Yeah," the detective murmured, blinking away sweat that was rolling into his eyes. "Looks like Prudholm ... got one thing right ... 'bout me." He slowly raised his head to look into the eyes of the man who now stood before him.

Langdon moved closer to his victim, the steel of his knife glinting in the lamp light. Starsky tried desperately not to flinch as the mad man pressed the tip of the blade against the soft flesh of his arm,

"Gary's first injury," Langdon stated matter of fact as he pushed the knife in deeper, carving a six inch gash into his captive's bicep. Starsky tried desperately not to cry out but in the end he did; the hours of suspended agony had taken their toll, he couldn't fight it any longer.

"Good, good," Langdon cooed. "We're making progress."

Starsky shivered uncontrollably as blood began to roll down his newly injured arm, the throbbing of this wound as intense as the infected bullet wound in his other arm.

He hung his head, breathing deeply. He knew what was happening to his body, years of first aid training left him in little doubt - he was going in to shock.

The flash of the camera made him blink but he had little energy left to respond further to Langdon's action or to acknowledge his next comment,

"Another souvenir for Georgie," the mad man muttered as moments later he stood before the detective, knife once more in hand.

Starsky felt its tip on his neck and felt a strange sense of euphoria. This was it, the final cut, the one that would end his misery. Hutch wasn't going to rush through the door guns blazing, wasn't going to be in time to save him this time, he was sure of that now. So he found himself longing for death, ashamed of his feelings, but unable to control them.

He stared deep into the mad man's eyes. "Do it," he groaned. "Finish it."

Langdon grinned as he began to run the knife down the front of the detective's shirt, cutting buttons away from the fabric. "Soon," he whispered, as if to a lover, into the suspended man's ear as he started cutting lightly into the flesh of Starsky's exposed, sweat drenched chest. "Gary's second injury," he murmured.

Blood dripped from the newly opened gash in his stomach and began to pool on the floor. Starsky, his focus blurring, stared at the red, spreading stain at his feet, vaguely aware that Langdon was speaking again, but unable to make out the words, as his body began to drift in and out of consciousness.

It was an odd sensation as his mind floated, providing a reprieve from the pain and despair. He welcomed the feeling, recognized it for what it was; the precursor to death. As Langdon continued his monologue Starsky closed his eyes and refocused, allowing memories of his life to flood his fever muddled brain and block out the ramblings of a mad man. He remembered all of the things that had made his short life matter; his father, lost to him at such an early age, his mother, who would be forced to grieve once more and his brother, the spoilt younger child he'd always protected. But most of all he remembered his partner.

Their first meeting had been a rocky one, both from completely different backgrounds it had been difficult at first to find a common ground. But once a commonality had been established (a passion for police work) they fast became close friends, inseparable, the scourge of the police academy. Hutch was more than his partner now, Hutch was his best friend, closer than his own brother. And so as Langdon's voice began to seep back into his mind he suddenly realized something - it wasn't just his life at stake here. He suddenly realized that if he died here, if he allowed himself to succumb to the torture of a mad man, then his partner's life would be ruined; Hutch would find his body hanging lifeless in this cold, stone prison and he would blame himself for the rest of his life.

And Starsky couldn't let that happen. So he forced himself to concentrate, to focus on the inane ramblings, to open his eyes and to carry on the fight. He ran his tongue over swollen, dry lips and swallowed deeply. "Ya know," he muttered. "You sure do ... like the sound ... of your own voice."

"Ah detective, you're back," Langdon grinned. "I was beginning to think you were not as strong as Georgie first thought."

"Wouldn't ... want to prove ... Georgie wrong," Starsky murmured.

"And so we continue." Langdon said dangerously as he stood admiring the blood stained knife he held in his hand. "Gary's final injury ... the fatal blow," he grinned as he began to push the blade deep into his suspended captive's exposed, sweat drenched chest.

For Starsky, with the entire length of steel now embedded in his chest, the pain was intense. But it was nothing compared to the agony he now felt as Langdon began the slow process of pulling it back out.

With the knife now completely removed from his body Starsky felt his blood gush from the gaping wound.

"Now I'm going to watch," Langdon grinned, "as you bleed to death."

And as Starsky looked through blurring eyes at the smiling mad man that stood before him he knew in that instant that he'd lost the fight; Langdon had won. He hung his head, waiting for death and didn't hear his partner's shouted words as they echoed off the stone walls around him.

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, LANGDON." Hutch stood in the entrance of the enclosure, weapon raised, Huggy and Dobey close behind.

His reaction immediate Langdon slid behind the body of his suspended victim, holding his knife against Starsky's throat.

"Get back Hutchinson or I'll slice him open," he growled.

Hutch stared at his semi-conscious, blood soaked partner and knew that Starsky would be unable to help.

"Give it up," he responded, trying to hold in check the desperation in his voice. "You're not getting out of here ... I've got back up." Hutch nodded behind him, at the small group of uniformed officers who stood in the rear.

"Then I'm going to finish this ... I'm going to finish what Georgie asked me to do." There was a strange softness to his voice as he continued. "He's my father you know ... the only one who ever really loved me," they were the words of a ten year old boy, who once craved love.

Hutch saw the trickle of blood at Starsky's neck and knew that Langdon was about to cut his partner's throat. And so, with his partner's life in the balance, he opened fire. Langdon was dead before he hit the ground, the small hole the bullet had made in his forehead still smoking.

"Check him," Hutch shouted behind him as he raced to his partner's side aware that there was really no need, he had no doubt that Langdon was dead.

"Starsk," he murmured, gently placing a hand on his partner's sweat soaked head. "Starsk can you hear me?"

Responding to the familiar voice the still suspended detective slowly raised his head and looked blearily into Hutch's concerned face. "What took ... you so ... long?" he whispered.

Hutch's smile of relief was short lived as Starsky's began to groan, his fever-wracked body shaking uncontrollably in its restraints

"We gotta get him down," he said, looking desperately at Dobey. "Pass me that knife Cap."

Against all protocol the police captain picked up the blood soaked blade and handed it to the blond detective; they would worry about compromised finger print evidence later - Starsky's need was far greater.

Hutch, his fingers slipping on the wet handle, sawed through the entangled twine that held his partner in place. Moments later, task complete, he gently lowered his badly injured friend to the floor, assessing his wounds as he did so.

"Hug, give me ya jacket," he demanded, shrugging his own coat from his shoulders. "We gotta stop the bleeding." He placed the proffered jacket against his partner's bleeding chest and stomach wounds, attempting to stem the flow.

Close by Dobey tore strips from his own jacket before kneeling beside Starsky to wrap the torn cloth around his friend's wounded arms. Instantly blood from the knife and gun-shot injuries saturated the cloth and the fever-wracked detective shivered as Dobey tied the make-shift bandages in place.

"Where in the hell are the paramedics?" Hutch yelled at a nearby cop as he covered Starsky's body with his own coat in an attempt to ease the chills. "Get them in here ... now!"

"Hey Hutch," the voice was small. "Take it ... easy ... he's just doing ... his job."

Hutch looked down at his partner and smiled. "I know," he murmured as he eased Starsky's head onto his lap, stroking away sweat soaked curls from his eyes. "Just take it easy ... lie still okay."

"Okay," Starsky murmured as his body continued to shiver beneath the warm covering.

"Hug ... he's in shock," Hutch informed his friend, unable to stop the tremor in his voice. "Elevate his legs ... it'll help."

"Sure thing Hutch," Huggy said quietly as he knelt beside Starsky lifting his legs onto his lap, still shaken by his friend's injuries..

Starsky moaned softly at the movement, "Hutch," he murmured his hand reaching out, searching out his partner, in need of re-assurance.

"I'm here," the blond detective responded, taking his partner's hand in his. "I'm here."

Starsky blinked open unfocussed eyes, staring up as Hutch squeezed his hand gently, confirming his presence. "I've got something of yours," he continued, smiling down at his fading partner. He pulled the remembered item from his jeans pocket and placed it in Starsky's hand, wrapping his injured friend's fingers around the cherished object.

"Thanks," Starsky grinned weakly, feeling the cool metal coins and soft leather of his necklace against his skin. Moments later he began to cough violently, fighting for breath as blood tricked from his mouth.

Hutch looked helplessly at Huggy and Dobey as he pushed the jacket against the chest wound.

"Stay with me ... stay with me partner," he coaxed. "Just hold on ... help's on its way."

Starsky nodded his understanding, taking deep breaths as the coughing eased. "D'ya get 'im?" he said suddenly, eyes fixating on his partner. "D'ya get ... Langdon."

"Yeah," Hutch answered quickly. "I got 'im ... always said I was the better shot."

"Dream on," Starsky grinned up at his friend, blood continuing to trickle from the side of his mouth. "Must'ave just got ... lucky." Moments later his body arched and, once more, he was fighting for breath.

"Easy buddy ... easy ... just hold on," Hutch pleaded as a team of paramedics rushed to their side.

"Can't ... 'm s'rry ... H...hutch," Starsky slurred as his head lolled against his partner's chest and he finally gave in to welcome oblivion.


	12. Chapter 12

**So, so sorry that this latest chapter has taken so long to post – real life got in the way big time! **

And I've written and re-written this several times because I wasn't happy with the way it was reading My muse was alluding me, big time.

And then tonight things seemed to fall into place – so here I am at 4 o'clock in the morning UK time posting Chapter 12. Really hope it reads right now, that it makes sense and doesn't disappoint. You might be pleased to know that the next (and last) chapter is pretty well there and will be up by next weekend.

As usual any errors or Britisms are "mine all mine." Reviews, good or bad, are always greatly appreciated.

**For Georgie**

**Chapter 12**

With injuries like that how was his partner even alive he wondered as he sat in the hospital, waiting for news?

He would never forget finding Starsky in that cage, never forget the look on his face as he hung suspended, in torment. Hutch knew at that moment that his friend had given up, had accepted his fate; was prepared to allow death to claim him.

Now, as he leaned back against the cold, stone wall, he tried not to think about the frantic ministrations of the paramedics only a few hours before; their desperate fight to keep Starsky alive on the floor of that animal enclosure. And their continued attempts to stabilize him during the twenty minute journey to the hospital. Throughout that trip he'd sat holding his partner's hand, willing him to realize that he was now safe from the clutches of a mad man, that he had been rescued from the pit; that he did have a reason to live

He stretched out his long legs and rubbed at his shoulder, now aching, a deep throbbing that he was finding hard to ignore. He'd taken his arm out of the sling en-route to the zoo, aware that it would hamper the rescue mission, now he was paying the price, desperate for pain medication but reluctant to seek it out.

"Here ... brought you some coffee," Dobey murmured, as he sat down beside his friend.

"Thanks," Hutch responded as he accepted the cup of steaming liquid.

"You heard anything yet," the police Captain asked quietly. "Any news?"

"No ... not yet ... he's still in surgery."

"I'm sure he'll be okay ... I mean they'd managed to stabilize him in the ambulance on the way here ... seemed pretty pleased with the way he was responding."

Hutch nodded silently, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. "Damn it Cap ... Langdon had him at the zoo ... I should've known ... I should've second guessed that sick bastard."

"Don't beat yourself up Hutch ... you know we already checked it out ... the moment Starsky disappeared I had a patrol car sweep the area. They didn't find anything."

"Because he knew we'd look there first ... he played us ... kept everything hidden until the black and white left and then ...." He didn't need to continue the sentence, both aware of what happened after the patrol car had left.

"Yeah ... well," Dobey said, clearing his throat. "We're lucky Prudholm slipped up ... without those photographs we would never have reached Starsky in time ... so there's that to be thankful for."

They sat silently for a few moments, each contemplating the "_what ifs"_ that could have cost their friend his life.

Huggy returned at that moment, carrying a small case in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Got the things you wanted Hutch," he said, placing the case on the floor. "And I let Fifi know what's happened ... says to tell you not to worry – she'll take care of the house as long as it takes."

"Thanks Hug," the blond detective murmured as his friend sat down, sipping his coffee.

A tall, balding man in a white coat approached them, clip board in hand. "Detective Hutchinson?" he queried.

"I'm Hutchinson ... do you have anything to tell us about my partner Doctor?" he said quickly as he stood to shake the doctor's hand.

"Yes I do ... I'm Dr Gibbons ... I've just finished operating on Detective Starsky ... he's currently recovering in ICU."

"That's great," Huggy grinned as he and Dobey stood up to listen to the news.

"But," the doctor continued, holding up a hand to dampen the exuberance. "I'm not going to lie to you – he's in pretty bad shape right now, I'm really surprised he's made it this far to tell you the truth ... we've stitched up the knife wounds ... he was lucky that the knife in his chest didn't pierce his lung. We removed the bullet from his arm but at this stage I'm more worried about the concussion and he has a dangerously high fever."

"What are his chances?" Hutch asked quietly, unsure he was prepared for the answer.

"Well ... we've placed ice packs around his body which should bring down his temperature ... and we'll be constantly monitoring his progress over the next twenty-four hours ... I'm afraid it's up to him now."

"Can I see him?" Hutch asked.

"If you wish," Doctor Gibbons answered. "But be aware he looks pretty beaten up right now ... plenty of wires attached ... he's covered in bandages ... and of course he won't know you're there."

"I know ... but I'd like to see him anyway."

Moments later Hutch stood outside Starsky's room. He stared through the window at his partner, at the plethora of equipment monitoring vital signs; feeding much needed medication and liquids. At the tube inserted down Starsky's throat providing life giving oxygen.

Despite the doctor's warnings he was unprepared to see his friend looking so desperately ill.

Huggy joined him, stood alongside staring through the window.

"He's gonna be alright Hutch," he muttered, hastily. "He's a fighter ... he'll pull through this."

"I'm not so sure Hug ... if he still thinks he's back in that cave ... back with Langdon he won't want to pull through. I saw that look on his face ... he wanted to die, he was hurting that bad."

"But he saw us ... he knows you brought the cavalry ... knows you were there for him."

"Yeah ... I just hope he remembers it enough to forget everything else."

Huggy looked at Hutch then, took on board the pale features, the way he was favouring his shoulder; realized he was close to collapse

"Hey," he said. "Why don't you go home? ... take a shower ... freshen up ... you're gonna be no good to him if you take a nose dive."

"No ... I'll be fine Hug ... I'll get some pain killers ... get some support for this arm. And then I'm going to sit with Starsk ... until he wakes up.," Hutch said as he entered the ICU room unwilling to even think the unthinkable – _"if he wakes up."_

z3z3z3z3z3z3

The movement was only slight but it was enough to wake Hutch from his fitful sleep. Slightly disorientated it took him a few moments to remember where he was and to realize what had woken him - his partner's hand lightly resting on his arm.

He turned his head slightly, flinching at the crick in his neck, testament to his too awkward sleeping position, and looked into Starsky's open eyes.

"Hey buddy," Hutch whispered, smiling. "Welcome back."

Starsky returned a weary smile and then scanned the room, taking in the medical equipment, the wires still attached to his body.

He looked back at Hutch, eyes questioning, seeking reassurance.

"You're okay," the blond confirmed, understanding his partner's concern. "Gave us quite a scare there for a while ... but you're okay."

Visibly relieved Starsky relaxed. Minutes later a dark-haired nurse entered the room. She grinned when she saw her patient awake and proceeded to carry out the required physical checks. As she lifted his wrist to check his pulse he looked into her eyes, only now noticing how pretty she was.

Any other time he would've relished the moment; would've laid on some "good ol' Starsky charm,", but not this time. This time it was still too soon, the memory of torture at the hands of a madman still too fresh in his mind and he felt exhausted; days of torment had taken their toll.

He grimaced slightly as she made to adjust the chest bandage.

"Are you in pain Detective Starsky?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah ... a little," he murmured, the expression on his face betraying the truth, that he was actually hurting a lot.

"I'll just up the dosage slightly," she smiled, making the necessary adjustment to his medication. "This should take effect real soon ... it's nice to see those handsome blue eyes open for a change," she grinned down at him, lightening the moment. He hadn't noticed her, but she had certainly noticed him. "It was sure worth the wait sugar," she giggled as she left the room.

"Can I get you anything ... sugar?" Hutch smirked as he stood to stretch stiffened muscles, unsurprised by the nurse's reaction to his partner. "You want some water?"

Starsky nodded and made to sit up.

"Hey there ... take it easy ... let me get that for ya." Hutch fussed, as he adjusted the angle of the bed to provide his friend with a more comfortable position.

He held up a glass to Starsky's lips, allowing him to take several sips of the cool water. Once sated, the curly haired detective slowly leant back against his pillows.

"You brought ... the cavalry huh?" he croaked, throat still sore from intubation. "Thought ... for certain ... I was gonna ... wake up dead this time?"

"Not this time partner," Hutch grinned. _"Not anytime as long as I'm around",_ he thought.

"How long ... I been here?" Starsky queried.

"Three days."

"Three days? ... You been here the whole time?," he asked, incredulous. "Cause I gotta say," he yawned. "You look worse than I do. You even slept?"

"Yeah I've slept ... this is luxury compared to some of the places I've spent the night ... usually on stake-outs with you ... in that thing you call a car." Hutch smirked, waiting for the usual defensive response.

But it didn't happen. The blond detective looked down at his now sleeping partner; the brief time awake had obviously exhausted him.

"Get some sleep buddy," Hutch murmured, seated once more in the adjacent chair. "I'll still be here when you wake up."


	13. Chapter 13

So sorry for the delay but I finally found my muse! Really struggled with this chapter, had to re-write it several times.

And just to reassure you I will be completing this story – know how frustrating it is to start reading something that never gets finished.

Let me know what you think – am particularly keen to make sure I've kept the guys in character for this chapter (it's why I've struggled with this I think).

As usual any "Britisims" or errors are mine, all mine.

* * *

For Georgie

Chapter 13

The silence was palpable as Hutch entered the room. Starsky was asleep, had been for several hours now. The blond detective was relieved - his partner needed the rest.

He resumed his seat alongside his sleeping friend and sipped at his newly acquired coffee. The bedside-cabinet was awash with get well cards and bowls of fruit, a reminder of just how popular Starsky actually was, especially with the Precinct's female personnel! It seemed ironic however that, only days earlier, some of the so called well-wishers had turned against his partner, quick to forget friendship and loyalty – quick to condemn an innocent man.

Hutch pulled out the Langdon case file and began reading through his newly submitted report. It had been hard to write – each of the words a reminder of the anguish, both physical and mental, that his friend had suffered. And as he re-visited his closing statement, remembering the horror of finding Starsky close to death, he realized his hands were shaking.

Quickly he put down the file, picked up his coffee and looked over at his partner – seeking a reminder that Starsky had actually survived his ordeal. But as he watched, his still sleeping friend began to murmur, his breathing becoming more erratic; his body beginning to twitch. Hutch had witnessed this behaviour before over the past few days, had learnt to spot the beginnings of a nightmare. And so he placed a reassuring hand on his partner's arm.

"It's okay buddy," he soothed. "It's okay … you're safe."

But his words were failing to reach the frightened man, locked as he was in a terrifying dream. Desperate to break through Hutch sat on the edge of the bed, lifted Starsky's trembling hand and squeezed it gently.

"Starsk," he called, more urgently now. "Wake up buddy … snap out of it … you're okay … I'm here."

But the reassurance proved useless, as the now sweat-drenched man, writhed frantically on his bed, desperate to escape the horrors invading his mind. Until finally he cried out, a loud guttural howl that shook the blond detective to the core.

"PLEASE!" he screamed. "NO MORE! … PLEASE!"

Instantly Hutch responded, gathering his partner into his arms, stroking sweat-soaked curls, gently rubbing Starsky's still shuddering back.

The frightened detective awoke then, desperately clutching at the man who was holding him, desperately seeking solace from his best friend.

"It's okay Starsk I'm here," Hutch responded soothingly. "It was just a nightmare," he whispered. "You're safe now … you're safe."

And at that Starsky, still remembering vivid images of torture, broke down – he collapsed into Hutch's arms and began to sob, shaking uncontrollably as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Shh … it's okay partner," Hutch murmured, continuing to hold his trembling friend. "I gotcha … I gotcha."

Several minutes later Starsky finally quietened, his body becoming more relaxed, his breathing becoming slower and more even.

Hutch lowered him gently onto the bed and sat back. "You okay now?" he asked softly.

"Yeah … m'okay," Starsky answered, as he glanced up at his friend, still seeking affirmation that it was all a dream.

"You want some water?" Hutch asked.

Nodding an agreement Starsky readily accepted the proffered cup, slowly sipping the refreshing liquid.

"Bad one huh?" Hutch asked as he sat back on the bed, hand once again resting reassuringly on his partner's arm. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I can't Hutch," Starsky mumbled, closing his eyes, long lashes still damp. "Not yet,"

Hutch nodded his understanding. "Okay buddy … I'll be here when you're ready."

He picked up a card from the bedside-cabinet. "The Typing Pool girls send their love," he grinned. "Seems they've all promised you a kiss the minute you walk back through their door."

Cheered by Hutch's comments Starsky lifted the card from his friend's hand and looked at the scrawled messages of support.

"So now we know," he smiled.

"Know what?" Hutch queried.

"Reason why those girls are always offering to help us with our reports … always told ya it was 'cause of my good looks and charm."

"I think you're still suffering from concussion," the blond goaded, heartened by his friend's playful remarks.

"I think you're still delusional," Starsky grinned, handing the card back to his partner.

Hutch placed it on the cabinet and picked up a banana. "You hungry?" he asked. "Want me to get you something to eat?"

"Only if it's something you smuggled in," Starsky moaned, staring in disgust at the fruit bowl. "Have you tried the food here, Hutch? … you'd love it … they tell me it's wholesome."

"Buddy I promise you that when you get better I'll bring you a Huggy special."

"I'll hold ya to that," Starsky muttered as he watched his partner devour the yellow fruit. "By the way," he continued. "That reminds me … how is Hug? … he forgiven me for laying him out yet?"

"I think he's over it … says he's glad you hit like a girl otherwise the bruise would be bigger," Hutch grinned. "And that reminds _me_ of something," he added. "You do know that when you're better we're going to have that talk ... the one where I tell you that the next time you take off like that I'm going to kill you myself."

Starsky closed his eyes. "Yeah I know," he grinned. _"And I love ya too!,_" he thought before drifting into a restful sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for the reviews – they're really appreciated.

Here's another chapter, hope you like it!

* * *

For Georgie

Chapter 14

Over the next few days Starsky gradually improved, his bruises fading; the nightmares abating. Hutch, confident his partner was on the mend, finally acquiesced to Dobey's orders and went home for the night.

Fully appreciating the comforts of home - a shower, his blender and a comfortable bed – he arrived back at the hospital the next day feeling refreshed and eager to see his friend.

But when he entered Starsky's room it was to a silent and brooding partner and he instantly regretted his decision to go home.

Setting down some fresh supplies on the bedside-cabinet Hutch attempted to lighten the mood.

"Brought you some candy from Minnie," he grinned, extracting a brightly coloured package from his bag. "She says to say hi and hopes you're back in harness soon."

"Not sure I'm going back," Starsky mumbled, ignoring the offered gift.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hutch asked, careful not to raise his voice, well aware his partner was on the edge.

"It means I'm not sure I wanna go back to being a cop."

"Starsk?" the blond detective murmured, apprehensive.

"I mean it Hutch ... I've been thinking about it at lot these past few days. You know why I became a cop ... same reason as you - to help people, to protect 'em from the bad guys. Not to get 'em killed."

Hutch made to protest, to tell his friend that he was being ridiculous; that he was wrong to blame himself. But Starsky interjected.

"You can't keep telling me I'm not responsible for those deaths ... it was me Prudholm was after ... I should've resigned the minute he shot that first cop … I could've stopped all this ... right there and then." Starsky closed his eyes, for him the conversation was over; he'd made up his mind and naively expected Hutch to accept it.

But the blond detective was ready for this fight; had been from the moment his partner had started to heal.

"You honestly think that?" the blond detective murmured.

His partner's silence was answer enough.

"I think you're wrong," Hutch continued. "And Dobey was right … we can't give in to terrorist demands … the minute we do that we open the door to every nut job out there."

"Yeah … and that makes total sense Hutch … so why is it that the guys in the precinct didn't see it that way, huh? … Why is it they looked at me like it was my fault?" Starsky asked, voice trembling. "I'll tell ya why – it's 'cause Prudholm and Langdon were killing their friends … killing their families … and as far as they're concerned I could've stopped it."

Hutch sat beside his partner, unable to find words of response. He was tired, frustrated. He wanted to scream at Starsky, tell him he was being selfish for wanting to walk away from the force, to walk away from their partnership. But in truth he knew his friend's plans were far from self-centred – that his decision to resign emanated from a need to make amends.

"So what you're saying … is after all you've been through ... you're going to let that sick bastard Prudholm win," Hutch said finally, looking at Starsky, desperately needing him to stay strong, to carry on the fight. To understand that he was hurting too, that the last six months had taken their toll

He'd been forced to stand by whilst Starsky had been dragged through the courts by a "suit" who'd already labelled him guilty; forced to watch his partner being slowly destroyed by two madmen, whilst fellow officers had ostracised him. And he'd been forced to sit, helpless, as his best friend lay dying in his arms, life-blood oozing from his tortured body.

Starsky stared silently at his partner for a few moments. "Yeah," he finally replied. "But I think he's already won." They were the words of a defeated man.

And Hutch responded instantly. "I don't believe it," he goaded. "You're stronger than that … this is not just about what you think you owe the victims … there's something else. And I need to know Starsk … I need to know why you want to walk away from our partnership … why you want to walk away from me."

If the statement was designed to shock it worked because Starsky openly flinched. And then he was silent for a few moments, carefully deciding what to say next.

When he did finally answer, Hutch knew his friend was close to breaking.

"Our partnership … our friendship … it's important to me Hutch," he murmured. "You gotta know that! When Hug came to tell me you'd been shot I thought Langdon had killed ya … thought that I'd killed ya," he held up his hand then, as Hutch made to interject. "Don't try to tell me it wasn't my fault … the only reason he took that shot is 'cause you're my partner."

"So what are you saying? That the reason you want to quit is to protect me? Langdon's dead Starsk … Prudholm's locked away – he can't get to you anymore."

"He was locked away before … he still got to me … used a kid to do his dirty work."

Hutch stood in anger then. "Don't you dare try to tell me Peter Langdon was a victim in all this!" he growled.

"Hutch … he told me about his Dad … what that sicko did to him ... Prudholm took advantage of that … used him."

"Damn it Starsk … I can't buy that … I saw what Langdon did to you, what he was going to do to you ... I saw the look on his face as he held that knife to your throat. He enjoyed torturing you ... it turned him on. When are you going to realise that you're the victim here?" Hutch ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Not Langdon … not me … you've the one who went through hell," he said quietly.

"Don't you think I know that," Starsky answered, voice raised. "Don't you think I remember being strung up … helpless … knowing any minute it would be over … I thought I was gonna die Hutch And you know what … at one point I wanted to … I wanted to give in … make the pain go away but I didn't …. wanna know why? – because I couldn't do that to you … couldn't let you be the one to find me like that … so I held on … and I survived, but others didn't get that chance … and I gotta live with that every day. But if anything happened to you because of me … I couldn't live with that."

The tirade had exhausted him. He leant his head against the pillow, spent.

Hutch sat back next to his partner and gently squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad you didn't give up buddy," he murmured. "And I get that you're trying to protect me … but if you quit who's going to be there to watch my back out on the street. You had no control over what Prudholm did, what Langdon did … I know that … and the guys at the precinct know it now too … they've been trying to tell you that ever since you woke up." he nodded towards the plethora of get-well cards

"What about the families Hutch?" Starsky asked quietly, looking for his friend to answer the question that was eating him up inside. "How can I expect them to understand? How can I ever face them knowing I could've prevented those deaths?" It was a simple statement but Hutch looked away, head bowed. He knew he couldn't help his friend – couldn't give him the answer he was looking for

"Am I interrupting something?" a small elderly woman asked from the doorway, before entering Starsky's room. "I'm Alice Brown," she smiled, introducing herself to Hutch as he stood to offer her his chair.

"I'm Ken," he told her politely as she sat down beside his partner.

"How are you feeling David?" she asked with genuine concern.

"M'okay," Starsky answered, apprehensively.

"I'm glad," she said sweetly, "I was so worried when I heard you were here."

Hutch looked questioningly at his partner. How did Jack Brown's widow know Starsky?

"This nice young man came to see my grand-daughter Amy when she was in ICU," Alice Brown explained, acknowledging Hutch's query.

Starsky, conscious that this woman didn't know who he really was, felt the need to admit the truth, to accept the barrage of abuse quite rightly due to him.

"Um … Mrs Brown," he said nervously, "there's something you should know about me … I should've told you when we first met … my name's Starsky, David Starsky … I'm responsible for Jack getting killed … for Amy getting hurt."

Hutch moved closer to his friend, offering much needed support.

"Really … I thought it was a man called Peter Langdon who shot my husband and grand-daughter," she answered, matter of fact.

"Yeah … but he shot them 'cause of me ... "

"David," Alice interjected. "I already know what happened … Captain Dobey told me … he also told me you put yourself at considerable risk to apprehend Jack's killer." She placed her hand gently on Starsky's arm. "I can see what you went through," she said softly, "what that mad man did to you … what you allowed him to do to you in order to save others. That's what makes you a good man … that's what makes you a good cop."

She removed a folded piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to the curly-haired detective.

"Amy sent this," she said. "When I told her about you she made this for you."

Carefully unfolding the proffered paper Starsky looked in astonishment at the neatly drawn picture. Colorful flowers surrounded the get-well message, a testament to the time it would have taken this little girl to make her card.

"I don't understand," he murmured, voice breaking – this was not what he had expected.

"Amy knows it's not your fault – knows that you didn't pull the trigger … she knows what you did to get justice for her grand-father ... for my Jack. And David," she continued, voice trembling. "I know that too … and so I want you to do something for me,"

"Yeah … sure," Starsky breathed. "Anything."

"I want you to accept that none of this was your fault … I want you to forgive yourself," she said, squeezing his hand. "And get better soon … we need you back out on the streets."

She stood to leave then and Hutch joined her in the corridor.

"Thank you Mrs Brown," he murmured, kissing her gently on the cheek.

"You're welcome Ken … and please call me Alice. Your partner _is_ a good man … it's about time he realised it," she smiled.

And Hutch nodded his agreement, grateful to the elderly woman as she walked away. When she'd told him about Starsky visiting her grand-daughter he'd not been surprised by his concern. He'd witnessed it first hand, after all, when his partner had visited Mrs Craig during the Lonnie case – the steadfast courage and determination to do the right thing even in the face of adversity; even when all around was hatred and animosity. He'd watched from afar (keeping his distance at Starsky's request) as his partner had walked amongst the mourners, acknowledging their interest; ignoring their disgust.

And when Starsky had spoken to Lonnie's mother, quietly explaining the purpose of his visit, Hutch remembered how proud he'd been to watch her accept his apology and to openly offer assistance – to openly offer forgiveness. Spurred on by Mrs Craig the others had warmed to his partner too, gathering around to provide much needed information.

Starsky had called them good people – for Hutch they were words spoken by the best person he knew.

* * *

Starsky's visit to Mrs Craig is one of my all time favourite S&H scenes. The courage it would have taken to walk, alone, into that group of mourners was, for me, a real testament to his strength of character (and the look of admiration on Hutch's face as he watched – pure S&H magic!).

I always wanted to reverse roles on that scene – wanted one of Prudholm's victims to acknowledge that it wasn't Starsky's fault, to give him absolution and help him move on. Hopefully that's what Alice Brown has just done!

Only one more chapter to go now – thanks for sticking with me!


	15. Chapter 15

Finally got the chance to update – things have been hectic since the kids went back to school and only now finding some quiet time to write.

Thanks for all the reviews of Chapter 14. Here's another one – hope you like it!

* * *

For Georgie

Chapter 15

"Will ya stop fussing," Starsky groaned as Hutch reached in to help his partner. "I can do it! ... I can do it!"

"Sure you can," Hutch grinned as he wrapped a supportive hand around his partner's arm anyway, gently easing him out of the car.

Once standing, Starsky stood tentatively at first, trying to find his balance before making the short walk to his apartment. Hutch stood quietly by awaiting his friend's next move.

"You okay?" the blond asked.

"Yeah … just give me a minute Hutch," his friend replied, breathless,

Following the surgery it had taken several weeks to get Starsky to this point, to get him home. And for Hutch it was still too early, he still felt Starsky should have stayed in the hospital a few more days. But his stubborn friend had insisted; had somehow convinced the doctors he was ready to leave. So after one final examination they had signed the discharge forms, with strict instructions to take it easy.

And Hutch had every intention of ensuring his partner did just that!

"Take it easy" he murmured as Starsky, cane held firmly for support, walked slowly to his apartment, stopping on occasion to catch his breath. Once inside he collapsed onto the closest chair, exhausted.

"You want some water ... a couple of Tylenol?" Hutch asked, concerned by his friend's pale features.

"Yeah," the answer was quiet, almost a whisper. Moments later he was swallowing the proffered medication, grateful that his partner knew him so well.

"I think you should go to bed for a while," Hutch suggested, as Starsky slowly shrugged off his jacket.

"Nah ... been lying down for weeks ... I'll be alright."

"You won't if you keep pushing," the blond murmured, matter of fact. "Let me at least make up the couch ... you can watch TV for a while ... at least till the pain eases off."

Starsky knew his friend was right; knew that if truth be told he was hurting and needed to rest. So he finally acquiesced, allowing himself to be eased onto the sofa, with a couple of pillows fluffed up behind him.

"Want me to stay?" Hutch asked.

"What are you my mother?" the dark haired detective grinned. "I told ya to stop fussing … you got a job to do … I'll be okay."

"Right," Hutch nodded. "Just need a coffee then I'll head back to the precinct.

By the time the percolator had dispensed the required beverage Starsky was asleep, the theme to "Days of Our Lives" playing softly in the background.

Hutch, still reluctant to leave, sat quietly at the kitchen table the call to Dobey already made. He knew that Starsky would kill him when he woke up, accuse him of worrying too much. But right now the blond detective knew there was only one place he wanted to be; only one place he needed to be and that was with his partner. And so he stayed.

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Several days later, although still staying with his partner at night, Hutch was back at work during the day. Starsky, however, didn't lack for company; it seemed most of the precinct had decided to visit; had devised a rota to ensure the convalescent detective would never be alone. As a result his lounge was covered in a plethora of get well cards and candy.

Despite the countless visitations (or perhaps because of them) Starsky was beginning to feel restless; to feel as if there was something he needed to do.

Huggy was quick to respond to his call, strolling into his apartment only thirty minutes later.

"How ya feeling Curly?" he grinned as Starsky offered him a freshly brewed coffee.

"I'm good," he responded, leaning back against the counter, sipping at his own hot beverage.

"You said you needed something ... what can I do for ya?"

"I need a ride Hug."

"Sure ... you only gotta ask ... where'd you need to go?"

"Rivermead."

To say Huggy was shocked was an understatement. "You wanna go where?" he asked, incredulous.

"You heard me ... I wanna go to Rivermead ... I wanna see George Prudholm."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Huggy murmured. "I mean ... I'm not sure you're thinking straight right now man."

"Yeah Hug I am ... straighter than for a long time. And I know this is exactly what I need to do. If I don't face that bastard now then he's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."

Huggy looked questioningly at his friend.

"I'm scared Hug ... I close my eyes at night and all I can see is his face sneering down at me and that frightens me ... more than anything. If I don't nail this now I'm gonna spend the rest of my life needing to know where he is; needing to know he hasn't sent out another Peter Langdon to get me ... to get Hutch ... or anybody else that's close to me." Starsky pulled on his jacket as he continued. "I need to remind myself he's only human ... that he's going to be locked up for the rest of his miserable life ... and maybe once I'm sure of that I can start putting my life back together."

Huggy pulled the car keys from his jacket and looked thoughtfully at the fragile, yet determined man standing before him.

"Now are you gonna take me?" the curly haired detective asked quietly. "Or do I need to call a cab?"

"Of course I'll take ya ... but Hutch is gonna kick my ass when he finds out."

"He's not gonna find out," Starsky stated, matter of fact. "I'm not gonna tell him, I don't want him to worry more than he's been doing already these past weeks."

"I'll back you all the way with that one Curly," Huggy breathed, relieved he wouldn't be incurring the wrath of Ken Hutchinson any time soon.

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By the time they reached the Rivermead Institute Starsky was beginning, understandably, to regret his decision. He felt the slight tremor in his hands, tasted salty-sweat on his upper lip.

"You sure about this?" Huggy asked in concern.

Starsky closed his eyes and dropped his head back against his seat, desperately trying to control the terror he now felt. "Never been less sure in my life Hug," he murmured. "But I gotta do this ... and I gotta do it alone." He looked meaningfully at his friend.

"Now wait a minute," Huggy protested. "I can't let you do that."

But Starsky was out of the car already determined to go through with his plan. He was steadier on his feet now, his health improving he no longer needed to use a walking stick. But he was still slower than Huggy, who caught up with him easily.

"This is a bad idea man," he warned, placing a concerned hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let me at least wait for ya inside ... that way I'm there if you need me."

Starsky nodded his acceptance, secretly grateful for Huggy's offer of assistance.

Dr Grimes was already waiting for them in reception – it seemed he was fully aware why they were both there.

"Thank you for your call," he said, happily shaking Starsky's hand. "Everything has been arranged."

Huggy, as promised sat down to wait. "I'll be here," he said, offering much needed reassurance. It was obvious he was still uncomfortable with the whole idea.

The psychiatrist led Starsky to a pre-assigned room. Prudholm, the detective could see, was already seated.

Whatever reaction he thought he would have to seeing George Prudholm for the first time since the trial he was unprepared for what actually did happen. As he looked through the one-way glass at the man who had, for the past six months, made his life a living-hell he froze. He felt his legs begin to tremble, felt sweat trickle down his face and into his eyes; felt the room begin to spin; felt the cold, hard ground as he collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Matthew Grimes was at his side in an instant, expressing his concern, but whatever words were being spoken Starsky failed to hear them, could only hear the pounding of his heart as he fought to control the urge to scream in fear; to run from the room and never come back.

Moments later he was being helped onto a nearby chair, a firm hand resting on his knee until the room swam back into focus; until he could finally understand what was being said.

"You don't have to do this today," the psychiatrist was suggesting. "I don't think you're ready ... we can do this some other time."

"No," Starsky murmured, certain now of what he had to do. "It's now or never ... if I walk away now I know I won't have the strength to come back ... I'll be finished ... my career will be over."

"What makes you say that?" the older man questioned, his concern evident.

"Because if I can't face up to Prudholm I might as well be giving in to every psycho, nut job out there, which means any one of them could get the drop on me, get the drop on Hutch ... I could get my partner killed and I won't let that happen ... I'll quit the force first."

"But you have to understand there's a real danger here Detective Starsky ... a man like George Prudholm is a control freak ... if he gets the slightest impression that you're not up to this ... if he sees that you're afraid of him it will empower him, give him control over you ... in that room and for the rest of your life."

Starsky listened attentively to the psychiatrists words of advice but he'd already made up his mind. "Animals like Prudholm," he responded slowly. "They use people ... chew them up and spit them out. If he thinks he can get to me again ... groom another Peter Langdon then he'll stop at nothing. It means that every new patient that comes through that door is in danger. So I need him to realize there's no way I'm going to let that happen ... and the sooner I face him the easier that's going to be."

Starsky stood up then and walked over to the interview room door. He looked briefly at the man seated within, took a deep breath and went in.

Momentarily shocked by his unexpected visitor Prudholm sat in silence, staring at the man now sitting in the opposite chair.

"What's the matter Prudholm?" Starsky grinned. "Cat got your tongue?"

It only took an instant for the elderly man to compose himself – and then he was quick with his retort.

"Well, well, well," Prudholm smirked, "if it ain't Lazarus risen from the dead."

"Yeah ... looks like you missed again ... guess I'm just too good for ya huh Georgie."

For an instant the smile vanished. And then - "Don't call me that," he snarled.

"Oh ... I'm sorry," the curly haired detective goaded, determined not to let this mad man see how scared he really was. "I forgot ... you only allowed one person to call you that ... right?"

Prudholm sat back in his chair, fully composed again now. "Peter was like a son to me ... but he was weak, not up to the job I gave him ... not up to killing you. Although," he continued smugly, "I saw the photographs ... saw what he did to you ... looked like he came close."

For a moment Starsky sat in silence, remembering the hours of incarceration, the unbearable torture he'd endured at the request of the mad man that now sat smiling at him. But he also remembered something else – the need to fight, the determination not to give up; not to let George Prudholm win and with that memory he found the strength to continue, to finally stand up to his demon.

"Know what I remember about your so called son ... I remember how he looked up to you, worshipped you; thought you cared about him. But we both know how wrong he was, don't we ... you didn't care for Langdon, you just used him. Just like you used your real son." And Starsky saw it then, the guilt in his nemesis' eyes, the truth that both men knew – ultimately Prudholm had been responsible for his son's arrest; for his son's death.

And at that moment the psychotic monster that had haunted his dreams, tormented his waking hours, vanished. In its place sat an aging, pitiful old man who had never known the true value of family; of friendship.

"I actually felt sorry for Peter Langdon," Starsky murmured as he stood from the table, certain now he'd conquered his fears. "But I realize something now - it's you I feel sorry for the most ... you're gonna spend the rest of your miserable life alone in this place ... and nobody cares."

The words were a final release as the curly haired detective walked away. For Prudholm they were confirmation of failure and he lost control then, lunging at the younger man, desperately fighting against the guards now restraining him.

"I'll get ya," he shrieked. "I'll get you and your partner."

But Dave Starsky ignored the words, realized they posed no real threat. The doctors at Riverside would ensure that this lonely, old man would never be allowed to get close to any of the other inmate again. This man, who had caused so much pain; had killed so many innocent people, would never again get the chance to hurt him or Hutch. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from his now aching body – and he knew then that he had finally won!

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As they drove back to Starsky's apartment Huggy finally broke the silence.

"You alright man?" he murmured

"Yeah ... at least now I know what it would be like to face the boogey man."

"You still think it's a good idea to keep this from Hutch ... he should know what you did today, in case things go badly tonight."

They pulled up in front of Starsky's apartment and Huggy looked at his friend waiting for him to answer.

"Things won't go bad Hug," Starsky finally said. "Not tonight ... or any other night. I'm not scared of Prudholm any more ... he's not the demon I'd made him out to be; he's just a two-bit punk who doesn't get it."

"Doesn't get what?" Huggy asked,

"What it's like to really care about someone ... and be cared for in return."

"You got that right my man," Huggy smiled, acknowledging the truth in Starsky's words.

"I'll see ya tomorrow," Starsky grinned as he eased himself out of the car; truth be told he was in desperate need of pain relief. "Hutch is gonna bring me over to your place for lunch."

"Oh well ... I'll be sure to fill up the snack bowls for ya then," his friend called out the window as he drove away.

Entering his apartment he noted the fresh delivery of cards on the mat; he smiled - more get well wishes. He refilled the percolator and downed a couple of Tylenol just before Hutch walked through the door.

"Hey there," the blond grinned, shrugging off his jacket and tossing his keys on the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Starsky smiled. "I'm okay." And this time he was answering his friend truthfully - he really was okay.

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Seems we're not quite finished yet. I'm busy writing the epilogue as we speak – after all this angst I think I need to finish this story with a good ol' S&H comedy tag!


	16. Chapter 16

Here's the final chapter of this story. It's taken a while to write "For Georgie" – real life can be a real pain sometimes, but I've finally completed what I set out to do; to finish this story that first popped into my head a very long time ago. When I first started writing this my very special friend Tabby was still around – in fact she beta'd the very first chapter. When she died I lost interest; drifted from the fandom in fact, S&H was too much of a reminder of this wonderful woman, who taught me so much about friendship and kindness and love (everything that S&H has always been about). But in the end I felt I had to write it (for her) and finally I have.

Many thanks to all who have reviewed and have stayed with me these past months – your kind words have meant a lot to me!

As usual any Britisms or mistakes are mine all mine.

* * *

For Georgie

Chapter 16

As Hutch pulled into the alley behind "The Pits" Eddie Hoyle was busy emptying the trash. With Starsky still officially on sick leave they were in Hutch's car - much to the dark haired detective's chagrin.

Pushing open the too stiff passenger door that was in desperate need of an oiling Starsky eased himself out, stretching as he stood; holding onto the door frame for support.

"Hi there Starchy ... Hup," Eddie grinned as he jogged up to the car. "Long time no see ... where you guys been?"

"Oh you know ... fighting for justice and the American way," Starsky grinned, as he pushed the car door closed with his left foot.

"Huffy said you two guys would be around today ... he's inside waiting on ya."

"Thanks Eddie?" Hutch smiled as he followed his partner into the bar.

Huggy was at one of the booths serving customers; talking the talk; jiving the jive. When he saw the two detectives he quickly made his way over, obviously pleased to see them.

"Well if it isn't the dynamic duo ... how ya doing Starsky?" he grinned.

"I'm good Hug ... should be back on the streets next week," the curly-haired detective advised, relieved that his friend had remembered not to mention they had been together the day before.

"Yeah ... that's cool my man," Huggy grinned at the news, placing a bowl of nuts in front of his friend. "Here tuck in ... you look like you need building up."

"He needs to build up ... not throw up," Hutch chastised as he placed the snacks out of reach.

"See what I have to put up with," Starsky complained. "My partner here thinks he's my Mother."

"You'll thank me later," the blond quipped. "What's on the menu Hug?"

"Well as it so happens you're in luck today ... gotta new chef ... he's worked in some of the finest establishments in town."

"When you say he worked there do you mean he actually prepared food and cooked it?" Hutch asked, certain he already knew the answer.

"Well no ... okay ... he didn't actually cook it ... but he did specialize in disposing of it."

"So he was the garbage boy," Starsky smirked.

"Don't answer that Huggy," Hutch said quickly. "We don't really want to know ... just tell us your specials."

"Sure ... I can offer you a succulent cheese burger and fries ... or a red-hot chilli that'll blow your brains out ... or a "President's Salad."

Starsky was quick to order. "I'll take the burger," he said.

"What's a "President's Salad?" the blond asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

"It's "The Pits" version of a Ceasar Salad ... instead of croutons it has fries."

"Can I have a "President's Salad" without the fries?" Hutch queried, ever hopeful.

"Your wish is my command," Huggy grinned as he disappeared into the kitchen with their orders.

Twenty minutes later they were both tucking into their meals, satisfied the new chef did actually know how to prepare food.

Eddie Hoyle bounced up to the bar, obviously keen to speak to both detectives.

"Hey fellas," he said, excitedly. "I got some good news for ya ... my sister Gertrude's on her way over ... she's been looking forward to meeting you guys ... being as you've done so much for me and all. She really wants to thank ya."

Starsky looked worriedly at his partner; if Gertrude was anything like her brother it would be best to avoid her.

"I'm sorry Eddie," he said. "But Hup here and me we gotta go."

"Umm ... actually I have to go," Hutch smiled. "I'm due back on duty in ten minutes. But Starchy can stay ... I'm sure Huggy will drop him back at his apartment later." Hutch looked over at his black friend for confirmation.

"Sure," Huggy confirmed helpfully. "It'll be my pleasure."

"Now wait a minute Hutch," Starsky said nervously. "You can't leave me here."

But Hutch had already stood from the bar-stool and was on his way out. Huggy, out from behind the bar, was following.

"I'll see you out," he said. "I got some news on that "narco case" for ya."

But although they appeared to leave, both waited expectantly out of sight, watching their forlorn friend; waiting to see what his reaction to Gertrude would be.

Eddie Hoyle, looking expectantly at the entrance to the bar, smiled happily when a very tall and attractive blond floated through the door.

"Gertrude!" he laughed happily, throwing his arms around the smiling woman.

She kissed him gently on the cheek and stroked his greying hair.

"I'd like you to meet someone," he murmured, enveloping her arm in his and leading her over to the bar. "This is my friend Hup," he grinned. "One of the cops I told you about

Starsky stared, dumbstruck at the beauty standing before him. She smiled sweetly at the detective and offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you Hup ... Eddie's told me all about you ... I want to thank you for all you've done for him."

"You're welcome," Starsky smiled back finally able to speak. "But actually my name's Starsky ... Dave Starsky."

They both laughed then, instantly at ease with each other; instantly attracted to one another!

Hutch, watching from his hiding place, grinned.

"You knew she was a beauty didn't ya?" Huggy whispered, happy Eddie's sister wasn't an "ugly" broad, that Starsky would have much to look forward to.

"Yeah," Hutch murmured. "Eddie showed me a picture of her a while back ... figured she would cheer Starsk up ... that she'd be just what the doctor ordered. And in any case," he continued. "I've got a date with Abby tonight … haven't seen her much recently ... she's making grilled mung bean casserole."

"Man you sure do know how to live it up," Huggy grimaced as he walked out to the parking lot with his friend.

"Make sure he gets home safe will ya Hug," Hutch said as he slid behind the wheel.

"You gotta ask ... sure I will."

Hutch nodded his thanks and drove away. Checking his mirror he grinned when he saw his partner emerge from Huggy's bar, the beautiful Gertrude on his arm; a smile he'd not seen in too long a time on his face. Hutch was certain that Starsky would make the most of the evening; that Eddie Hoyle's sister would "take him to heaven and back." It would make a welcome change. After all he'd only just made it out of hell. And Hutch had made a vow that Georgie would never get the chance to send his best friend back there!

z3z3z3z3z3z3

**"For Georgie" was for Tabby**

**"**_A friend is one to whom one may pour_

_out all the contents of one's heart,_

_chaff and grain together,_

_knowing that the gentlest of hands_

_will take it and sift it,_

_keep what is worth keeping,_

_and with a breath of kindness,_

_blow the rest away."_

Arabian Proverb

* * *

That's it – I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Having re-read some of the chapters I'm planning a slight re-write (have noticed some errors that are bugging me) – I'll re-post as a complete story once I'm happy.


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